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Sir Superior 

A NOVEL 


BY 


Bettine Kavanaugh Phillips 

CaN<F. 


NEW YOkK 

John a. kavanaug^ 



43840 

COPYRIGHT, 1899, 
By the Author. 
[All rights reserved.] 


TWO COPIES RECEIVED, 



•ccoNP oorr, 


CONCORD CO-OPERATIVE PRINTING CO, 
104 Elm street, New York. 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


CHAPTER I. 

“ Yes/’ defiantly, “ ‘ Sir Superior,’ I re- 
peat it. Why shouldn’t I when it is so 
apt and appropriate — such a perfect fit ?” 

“ Because,” angrily, “ you don’t mean it. 
You are applying it derisively, you know 
you are ; you are trying to ridicule Dr. 
Kent. It’s a shame, and grandmamma 
shouldn’t allow it,” with an appealing yet 
admonishing glance in Mrs Travers’ 
direction. ‘‘‘ 

“ Grandmamma can’t help herself,” and 
Vivian laughed — a soft, secure, little 
laugh; it is too late. I shall do as I 
please. She didn’t raise me properly.” 

“ Don’t try to shift the responsibility of 
your wickedness on poor grandmamma’s 
shoulders. You always have been, always 
will be, perverse for perversity’s sake. 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


For instance, there is no reason whatever 
for your aversion to Dr. Kent. It is all 
prejudice — a weak, foolish, woman’s preju- 
dice, and you know it only-- — ” 

“ I know nothing of the kind,” airily. 

But even so — admitted for the sake of 
argument — doesn’t some unimpeachable 
authority — the divine William himself, 
I believe — say somewhere that prejudice, 
pure, unfounded, unreasonable and unrea- 
soning, is a woman’s peculiar preroga- 
tive ?” 

“ There you go, evading the main issue, 
with one of your cowardly dodges,” and 
the boy sunk back, weary and disgusted, in 
his invalid chair, motioning to his attend- 
ant to fan him. “ But I expected it ; it is 
the way you always do when you are 
completely cornered. Miss Vivian, and 
haven’t a leg to stand upon. Anybody is 
a simpleton who argues with you, for you 
haven’t an ounce of logic in your whole 
composition.” 

Miss Chenault did not refute the charge. 
Perhaps she had not heard it, for she had 
resumed the arrangement of some flowers 
and was apparently absorbed in the occu- 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


3 


pation, as indifferent to RaonUs onslaught 
as a moment before she had been inter- 
ested. 

It was a curious and somewhat para- 
doxical fact that with all his vaunted 
contempt for his sister’s opinions she 
nevertheless had the faculty of exasper- 
ating him to a degree possible to no one 
else. 

He watched her now for a moment in 
sullen silence, crumpling a wad of paper 
between his fingers, vainly trying to ruffle 
her serenity and attract her attention by 
a fixed, menancing stare ; but, failing ut- 
terly to do so, openly renewed hostilities 
in so many words. 

“ Ho ! there, my Lady Disdain !” com- 
pelling consideration by a center-shot with 
the paper missile, “ you won’t look at me, 
but I know you hear me just the same, 
and I say that there is no reason for this 
unjust antagonism toward my friend Dr. 
Kent; that it is an outrage for you to 
make fun of him when he is absent and 
snub him when he is present, and — well, 
well — you’ve got to stop it, that’s all.” 

‘‘And I say,” retorted Vivian quietly. 


4 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


without lifting her eyes, that you are 
rapidly developing into an insufferably 
obnoxious prig. But,” with a slight smile, 
“ it is not surprising, when one remembers 
the daily example you have. At your 
present rate of progression you can soon 
divide honors with Sir Superior himself as 
a sanctimonious, conceited, canting ” 

He is not sanctimonious, nor conceited, 
nor canting. It is false, and you shanh 
say it,” and the boy leaned forward and 
emphasized his words by angry, violent 
gesticulation. 

Children, children,” interposed Mrs. 
Travers. “ Enough of this absurd wran- 
gle. Vivian,” reproachfully, “ how can 
you?” with a significant, deprecating 
glance at the invalid^s flushed face. “And 
you, Raoul,” gathering his hand in hers 
and stroking it gently, “it is childish to 
lose your temper over Vivian’s thought- 
less, foolish words. We all know that 
Dr. Kent is an upright, sincere, unas- 
suming gentleman and that she doesn’t 
mean half what she says.” 

Vivian laughed. 

“Oh, but I do, grandmamma, every word. 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


5 


I retract nothing. Do I, Ffairfax sud- 
denly turning and pelting with some re- 
fuse roses a handsome, indolent specimen 
of manhood stretched in a hammock hard 
by who had, up to this point, maintained 
a conservative silence. “ Come to the res- 
cue at once. Grandmamma has gone over 
to the enemy and says that Dr. Kent is — 
is — well, all that he would fain have peo- 
ple believe, while you and I know alto- 
gether to the ’’ 

“ I know that those rose leaves are wet 
and decidedly uncomfortable,” struggling 
to an upright position and brushing aside 
the damp petals. “ Stop it, will you ?” as 
a fresh shower descended, “ and I will 
agree to anything.” 

“Of course,” growled Raoul laconi- 
cally, “ you always agree with Viva.” 

“ No, no, Raoul, you mistake ; there is 
one point on which we cannot agree at 
all,” with a swift, audacious glance at Miss 
Chenault, that she alone comprehended, 
but coolly ignored without betraying that 
she comprehended in the least. Ffairfax 
smiled. As to Kent,” he continued, 
“ don’t be unfair now. I have never been 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


at any pains to conceal my opinion, irre- 
spective of Vivian. He is well enough in 
his way, no doubt, but it is a way alto- 
gether distasteful to me. He is too crush- 
ingly good, you know. A fellow with 
such an exalted moral tone keeps one 
constantly on a strain. It is deucedly un- 
comfortable, to say nothing of the unmit- 
igated bore of it. I’m not in sympathy 
with the species.” 

“ Perhaps,” retorted the boy, with in- 
tended sarcasm, “ it is because you neither 
understand nor appreciate the ‘ species,’ 
as you put it.” 

^‘ Perhaps,” good naturedly. I’m not 
very deep.” 

“ As for Vivian,” turning again upon 
his sister as the prime culprit, “ I know 
precisely why she doesn’t like Dr. Kent. 
It is because he doesn’t like her, that is 
the secret of the whole business. She 
hasn’t been able to turn his head and 
make a fool of him as she does of you and 
every other fellow that comes within her 
reach. He doesn’t ‘ bow to her as the wit- 
tiest, kneel to her as the prettiest and kiss 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


7 


her as the one he loves best.’ I under- 
stand it well enough.” 

The color deepened perceptibly in Miss 
Chenault’s cheeks at the rude, blunt 
words, but she merely said, with perhaps 
a fresh accession of indifference : 

‘‘ Your perspicacity does you credit, 
Raoul. I congratulate you upon it. But 
we will drop the subject for the present, 
at least, as I see that Sir Superior is cross- 
ing the lawn in our direction now. It 
strikes me that if he is such a wonderfully 
fine physician his visits by this time 
should be cut short — or at any rate follow 
more closely the lines of those of the an- 
gelic hosts.” 

There was no time for the retort that 
rose to Raoul’s lips, for the subject of 
contention was now in sight, almost within 
ear-shot. 

It was a somewhat picturesque group, 
unconsciously posed with artistic effect, 
that a sudden turn in the shrubbery 
brought to Dr. Kent’s view, and it struck 
him as peculiarly grateful and effective, 
more especially as it was in such sharp 
and forcible contrast to one whose lights 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


and shadows still quivered unpleasantly 
athwart his mental lens. 

He had but recently quitted the wretched 
hovel of one of his charity patients, where 
want and squalor prevailed ; where desti- 
tution, not only physical but mental and 
moral as well, held such indisputable sway 
that any attempt at either alleviation or 
emancipation seemed well-nigh hopeless. 

It might reasonably be conjectured that 
as a practitioner of some years’ standing, 
and an eminently practical man. Dr. Kent 
had become callous to such experiences. 
As a matter of fact, however, he had not 
become so : suffering humanity wherever 
met appealed to him irresistably. He 
never stopped to placate his troublesome 
sympathies with the comfortable and 
popular argument that, in nine cases out 
of ten, the suffering was well merited — the 
direct and easily traceable fault of the 
sufferer himself. To his simple view that 
sad truth augmented rather than dimin- 
ished the need of loving- kindness and 
tender mercy. For where, in truth, would 
we all be — even those immaculate ones 
who sit in judgment and dispense justice 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


9 


from high and holy places — if we but re- 
ceived our fair and just deserts? 

His ready impulse, then, was ever to 
succor and alleviate, albeit he realized 
more keenly than another, perhaps, how 
powerless individual effort must ever be 
to stem the torrent of impersonal, irre- 
sponsible evil, as well as the utter folly 
and futility of rash and indiscriminate 
charity. 

Notwithstanding all of which incontesti- 
ble wisdom and truth he had, neverthe- 
less, even to-day, been wrought upon — his 
sensibilities juggled with — his nerves set 
on edge — his perception of justice out- 
raged — his sympathies acutely roused — 
by the sight of wretchedness and woe irre- 
claimably beyond mortal reach. 

But as he neared the group upon the 
lawn the baffling and harassing perplexi- 
ties of existence insensibly fell into abey- 
ance before the grace and beauty of the 
picture presented, and the aesthetic, sen- 
suous strata of his nature was refreshed 
therewith, as the arid earth is refreshed 
by summer showers. He had necessarily 
to do with a great deal that was repulsive 


lO 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


and unlovely in life, but he craved always 
the beautiful, aud at this special moment 
he' experienced a sense of positive rest at 
the very tone of the environment that 
bespoke wealth, refinement, luxury. Here 
was centered all that is supposed to render 
life fair, bright and gracious; and here 
surely, if ever, poor humanity, lifted above 
every sordid consideration, must be found 
at its best. ^ 

These people before him w^re and had 
always been absolved from the mean, 
Garping cares that beset and bewilder the 
ordinary* masses — to put it Tennysoniau- 
ally, they had ‘‘ but fed on the roses and 
lain in the lilies of life.” 

Glancing at Mrs. Travers, with the 
snows of many winters drifted softly on 
the braids of her abundant hair, it was 
quite evident from her stately repose of 
manner; from the delicate, patrician 
hands,' still beautiful ; from the graceful 
pose of her erect figure, that her whole 
life long she had been carefully nurtured 
and effectually shielded from all debasing 
influences; and that whatever other 
trouble may have abided with her and 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


1 1 

shadowed her days, it had not been the 
sordid, devasting one of poverty, i . 

And the boy Raoul, also, had not the 
utmost resources of wealth been exhausted 
to compensate in some degree for the 
physical disabilities under which he la- 
bored? An almost hopeless cripple cer- 
tainly, but he^ reclined in a luxurious ad- 
justable chair, peculiarly constructed and 
fitted, with a valet at hand to minister to 
his comfort or cater to his whimsical de- 
mands, as the case might be. That the 
valet’s position was by no means a sine- 
cure was evident from the deep and sin- 
ister lines of discontent about the invalid’s 
mouth ; the impatient, irascible tone of 
his voice, even when addressing his grand- 
mother, whom he loved ; and the restless 
shifting of his piercing, dark eyes. . 

Ffairfax Travers, too, who having shaken 
off the toils of the hammock now stood 
erect, brushing the last obnoxious rose 
leaf . from his immaculate coat sleeve, was 
an imposing, and distingue figure. 

Tall .and handsome, with clear-cut fea- 
tures after the Grecian type ; blonde in 
all save the dark hazel of .his eyes ; welh 


12 


SIR SUPERIOR 


groomed, well-garbed, and with that per- 
fect, indescribable ease of bearing that 
marks the man thoroughly conversant 
with the world and thoroughly accustomed 
to the best that the world has to offer. 

It is certainly reversing the order of 
things to leave Vivian Chenault last upon 
the list, for undoubtedly, to any one com- 
ing upon the group, she would have ap- 
peared (as she did to Dr Kent) the central 
figure, the others serving as mere acces- 
sories, if, indeed, they had been accounted 
at all. For she was always, and at all 
times, strikingly conspicuous, not so much 
by virtue of mere beauty, perhaps, as by 
a certain, characteristic self-assertiveness 
that was neither boldness nor egotism, nor 
yet undue vanity. It was simply with 
her as with any other rare, rich touch of 
nature’s coloring. She caught and riv- 
eted the attention. She was impressive. 

On one or two occasions in her early 
girlhood she had become disconcerted by 
suddenly finding herself — without con- 
scious effort or desire on her own part — 
an obvious center of attraction. The 
perturbation had been of brief duration. 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


13 


however, and only for once or twice. 
Now, although the spontaneous admira- 
tion still continued, her self-poise was no 
longer ruffled; on the contrary, she had 
come to expect rather such attention and 
homage and merely accepted it as her just 
and proper due. 

H er beauty was of that rare, exceptional, 
incontestable type that exacts from all a 
unanimous verdict. It was a simple, in- 
disputable truth — a truth that she herself 
had always delighted in and been pro- 
foundly grateful for. She never saw an 
unmitigatedly plain woman without expe- 
riencing a pang of genuine pity, as well, 
it must be admitted, as a complacent, con- 
gratulatory ripple of satisfaction at the 
thought of her own comeliness. She was 
not over vain of the fact; but to say that 
she was ignorant and unconscious of it 
would be to say that she was a dolt, and 
Miss Chenault was by no means a dolt. 
She was clever enough to appreciate the 
divine heritage of beauty and candid 
enough to say so — to herself at least. It 
might be all very well for a profligate poet 
to denounce it as a “fatal gift,” and for 


14 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


grandmamma everlastingly to preach up 
the superiority of moral and mental 
worth, but Vivian quietly maintained her 
own views on the subject. 

She knew that Lord Byron in particular 
had yielded — and that the lords of creation 
in general do invariably yield — the prefer- 
ence to beautiful women, and, furthermore, 
that Mrs. Travers herself was proud of 
her handsome granddaughter. 

She did not know that Aristotle had de- 
clared “ beauty to be better than all the 
recommendations in the world,” but she 
knew that it was true, and that everything 
had always been easier and pleasanter for 
her because of this gracious dower. 

It was hardly flattering, therefore, to 
have it thrown in her teeth by her young 
brother that there was anyone — however 
iusiguiflcant — who remained insensible to 
her sway. Still, withal, this would have 
simply amused her had it not been for the 
accompanying accusation. That was quite 
another thing, and both angered and 
chagrined her; not, either, that she cared 
one whit for the capitulation of this special 
qitadel, for in truth she did nof. She was 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


5 


not an innate coquette and cared nothing 
for conquest for the mere sake of con- 
quest. But she was undeniably chagrined 
— very much so — at the surprising and 
unpleasant idea that even Raoul should 
attribute the mainspring of her antagon- 
ism to such a paltry motive. 

She disapproved of Dr Kent on prin- 
ciple; at least she believed most sincerely 
that she did. Her dislike was not the 
outcome of prejudice; it was justifiable 
and well founded, for she regarded him as 
an odious, conceited pedagogue, with dis* 
tasteful, plebian proclivities. ^ 

As a matter of fact, she knew little 
about him. 

He had come a few years previous, a 
stranger, in the neighborhood, and what- 
ever other credentials and recommenda- 
tions he may have brought with him, he 
certainly had not that to which Aristotle 
gives preference. For as to good looks, a 
pair of fine, heavily-lashed, gray eyes 
comprised his sole stock in trade, and one 
must know him very much better than 
Miss Chenault did to discover that at 
times there was beauty enough in these 


i6 


SIR SUPERIOR 


same eyes to redeem — even transfigure — 
the otherwise plain face. As to the more 
important consideration, however, of his 
ability as a physician, it had proved itself 
quickly. His success and popularity had 
been rapid and remarkable, to such a 
degree, indeed, that Miss Chenualt had at 
once decided it must needs turn such an 
already vain-glorious and inflated head. 

Raoul, a confirmed invalid always under 
medical treatment, always seeking relief 
that was rarely found, had been among 
the new doctor’s first patients. 

The disease that had distorted the boy’s 
spine had distorted his whole temperament 
as well. He was morbid, misanthropic, 
irascible, unreasonable by turns. A verit- 
able cross and trial even to Mrs. Travers’ 
lavish love and patience. From the first 
Dr. Kent had struck the keynote of his 
better nature and exercised an influence 
almost phenomenal. Under his treatment 
and constant supervision Raoul’s improve- 
ment in every respect, not only physically 
but mentally and morally as well, had 
been marvelous. It was not strange, then, 
that the doctor should be held in high 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


17 


and confidential esteem by Mrs. Travers. 
Even Miss Chenault, despite dislike and 
disapprobation, was forced to admit the 
efficacy of his methods in this instance. 
She would not admit, however, that this 
was cause for exaltation to a deific degree. 
Grandmamma and Raoul were at liberty 
certainly to exercise their pleasure in the 
matter, and apotheosize this parvenu prac- 
titioner as they saw fit ; she could not pre- 
vent, but she could see to it that he did 
not presume to an insufferable extent upon 
such injudicious, unqualified patronage 
and approval, and she would. 

Dr. Kent, who was a man singularly 
free from egotism (for he had learned 
enough at least of all there is to learn to 
realize fully his own nihility and insignifi- 
cance), would have been infinitely amused 
at Miss Chenault’s point of view had it 
been revealed to him. 

He was, however, neither amused at, 
nor wholly insensible to, her evident dis- 
like. It puzzled him a trifle in that he 
had done so little to incur it, and he won- 
dered, too, that he should be of sufficient 
importance to provoke such aggressive 


i8 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


antagonism ; but withal he could well af- 
ford to ignore it, for as he came in the 
capacity of a physician, rather than as a 
guest, and as the precarious state of 
KaouPs health demanded his frequent 
presence, his footing in the household 
was too secure to be jeopardized by Miss 
Chenault^s whimsical disapprobation. And 
to-day, notwithstanding her greeting was 
frigid in exact proportion as her brother’s 
was enthusiastic, he maintained his equan- 
imity with a coolness quite provoking. 

And you did bring the book you 
promised !” exclaimed Raoul, grasping 
the doctor’s hand in both of his, a flush of 
pleasure irradiating his pale face. “ I was 
afraid you would forget.” 

; No, I didn’t forget, but perhaps it had 
better be submitted to Mrs. Travers first 
for inspection. She may not approve of 
it.” 

“ Absurd,” laughed the boy, possessing 
himself at once of the volume. “ As if 
I were not old enough to read anything I 
like. Grandmamma wouldn’t dare dictate. 
Would you, grandmamma?” 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


19 


Mrs. Travers smiled, gratified at any- 
thing that pleased the petulant invalid. 

“ I certainly should not presume to dic- 
tate to Dr. Kent in the matter, as I have 
every confidence in anything he might be 
kind enough to select for you.” (Miss 
Chenault shrugged her shoulders.) But 
what book is it ? My curiosity is aroused.” 

“ Mn Both World,’” answered Raoul, 
glancing through the pages. 

“Mil Both Worlds ’ ?” repeated Mrs. 
Travers gingerly. “ An odd title.” 

“ Yes,” said Vivian. . “ One of Corelli’s. 
I have read it, but can’t say that I liked 
it.” 

“ Oh ! you are so wise,” sneered Raoul. 
“ It is nothing of the kind. Is it, doctor ?” 

“ Miss Chenault is probably thinking 
of ‘ A Romance of Two Worlds,’ No, 
this is something entirely different, and is 
very unique. Dr, William H. Holcombe 
is the author, and the narrative purports 
to reveal the experiences of Lazarus dur- 
ing the three days that he lay apparently 
dead, but, as the story has it, very much 
alive in reality, as to his spirit. You can 


20 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


imagine that it is both novel and inter- 
esting.” 

“It is very curious,” said Mrs. Travers 
reservedly. “ A recent book ?” 

“ By no means ; it was published years 
ago.” 

“ I hardly think I should liKe it,” with 
additional reserve. She was orthodox, if 
anything, and held correct, orthodox 
views as to subjects religious and sacri- 
ligious — things spiritual and supernatural 
— and any flippant tampering therewith. 

“ I am sure you wouldn’t,” interposed 
Ffairfax suddenly, speaking for the first 
time, and speaking emphatically, “ if it is 
anything like a book I read once by the 
same author.” 

“ You .^” and Vivian regarded him with 
unqualified astonishment, rather amused. 
“ You surprise me. I didn’t know that 
you were interested in spiritual matters?” 

“Neither am I. I was trapped, as it 
were, in this instance.” 

“ I don’t understand.” 

“It was some years ago— before your 
time — when I was afflicted with my sten- 
ographic mania. Aunt remembers,” with 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


21 


a smile at Mrs. Travers. “ Some extracts 
from a book by Dr. Holcombe — ‘ The 
Other Life ^ — had been printed in short- 
hand, in one of the text-books, and to 
transpose them I must necessarily read 
them carefully. I will admit that my 
study of shorthand was lost sight of in 
the interest aroused by the matter itself. 
It was very amusing, but at the same 
time it impressed me as the most absurd, 
fantastic, irrational thing I had ever read, 
the exaggerated vagaries of a literary 
crank — evidently the work of some hectic 
spiritualist.” 

“ Pardon me, no,” contradicted the doc- 
tor quickly. 

“ Oh, well, then,” indifferently, a Swe- 
denborgian, or something of the visionary 
type, if one cares to be specific. It is 
tantamount to the same thing.” 

Dr. Kent smiled. 

“ You are making a grave mistake,” he 
said, “ although a common one (for the 
ignorance of the great majority on this 
point is astonishing), when you confound 
Spiritualism with Swedenborgianism. 
They are fundamentally different ; indeed, 


22 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


I may say, that they are directly antago- 
nistic.’’ 

“ I am not particularly interested in 
either,” said Ffairfax, with an assumption 
of indifference bordering on contempt, and 
vigorously whipping off some clover tops 
with his light cane, “but I will say that 
if the book I allude to is an exposition of 
Swedenborgianism, then Swedenborgian- 
ism must be a most preposterous, irra- 
tional, nonsensical sort of doctrine.” 

“ It is hardly fair,” protested the doctor, 
“ to condemn wholesale a theory, espe- 
cially one so exhaustive and expansive, 
by the perusal of a few chance selections 
from one of the collateral works.” 

“ Oh ! I don’t see,” carelessly, “ if it is 
sound in the main, why it shouldn’t be 
sound all the way through, down to the 
smallest particulars.” 

“It is thoroughly sound, rational, con- 
sistent all the way through, and yet there 
are some of the truths that may, if pre- 
sented as mere isolated truths, shock the 
orthodox mind ; may even appear, as you 
say, fantastic and visionary ” 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


23 


‘‘ It must undoubtedly have been some 
of them that I stumbled on.” 

“ But it is impossible,” continued the 
doctor, a trifle impatiently, ‘‘to judge in 
any such circumscribed way of a system 
as vast and as all-embracing in its scope 
as that of Swedenborg — a system that 
proposes to elucidate all bewildering 
perplexities of the universe ; to reconcile 
the apparent inconsistencies of the Scrip- 
ture, harmonizing reason and religion, 
science and revelation ; in short, ‘ to vindi- 
cate the ways of God to man,’ and bring 
so far as practical and consistent, the 
Infinite within the grasp of the finite.” 

“ As I have already said,” responded 
Ffairfax coldly, at small pains to conceal 
that he was both bored and disgusted, “ I 
am not specially interested in these mat- 
ters — or rather they are beyond my depth. 
Agnosticism is by far the most comfort- 
able development of the nineteenth cen- 
tury. It is as much as I can attend to 
to grapple with the perplexities of our own 
material world, without attempting to 
penetrate further — if indeed there is any- 
thing further.” 


24 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


“ Perhaps,’^ interposed Vivian qnite un- 
expectedly, for she had apparently been 
concerned chiefly with her flowers, if we 
understood more clearly a higher exist- 
ence it would furnish us with a key 
wherewith to solve some of the perplexities 
of this. If we could only be assured — ” 
breaking off suddenly. 

“Assured of what?” asked Dr. Kent 
curiously, surprised at miladies serious 
mood. 

But already she remembered personali- 
ties, and regretted any betrayal of interest 
in a subject introduced by him. 

She laughed lightly, almost scofl&ngly, 
as she replied : 

“ Oh, of anything satisfactory and defin- 
ite beyond the stars. Does your Mr. 
Swedenborg, for instance, throw any light 
upon our cousins in the moon — their occu- 
pations, their social relations, their politi- 
cal economy, or does he merely confirm 
the popular green cheese superstitution ? 
Or does he even go further and offer us 
anything really tangible, rational and 
acceptable whereto to pin our faith in re- 
gard to a life hereafter? If so, one 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


25 


might — rising and abruptly 

dropping the subject, “ are you ready, 
Pfairfax 

Am I ready ? What a question ! Is 
it possible now that you don’t want those 
flowers,” for she had tossed them aside, 
after keeping me waiting this long time 
while you arranged them ?” 

I don’t want but one of them,” laugh- 
ing and stooping to recover a carnation. 

And I only want that for a peace-offering 
to smooth away that ugly, little wrinkle,” 
lightly brushing a frown between his 
brows with the flower, and then pinning 
it to his coat. 

The scowl vanished quickly beneath the 
magic of her touch, and, smiling, arm in 
arm, they turned away. 

“ Do not stay out after nightfall, 
Vivian,” Mrs. Travers admonished, “ it 
will be cool driving, and remember that 
you complained of ‘sore throat this morn- 
ing.” 

“ Remember then also, Miss Chenault,” 
supplemented Dr. Kent, “ to take some 
sort of wrap. That dress is — is — well 
rather thin, isn’t it?” gazing in some 


26 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


bewilderment at the dainty gown, that 
was elaborate enough in its way, but a 
way of organdie, ribbon and lace, alto- 
gether diaphanous. 

She had turned at the sound of Mrs 
Travers’ voice, a careless, smiling assent 
upon her lips, but the latter suggestion 
was repelled and resented instantly, even 
rudely. “ Thanks,” she said coldly, “ I 
will remember; but I am, I think, quite 
capable of looking out for myself — at all 
events, the advice of a physician is super- 
fluous.” 

That was a deucedly unkind cut,” 
observed Ffairfax, as they passed on. 

But I’m not sorry it was administered. 
He needs to be put down. Did you ever 
hear such another tirade ? I wonder aunt 
can tolerate him at all. He gives one the 
megrims. You are right, Vivian, he is 
not only a conceited prig, he is — pardon 
the expression — an unmitigated fool as 
well.” 

Yes, a Sir Superior, you know,” she 
assented sweetly. “ Only don’t lose your 
temper, Ffairfax, merely because he inti- 
mated you were displaying your ignorance. 


SIR SUPERIOR. 27 

It is unbecoming, and it is decidedly bad 
form.’^ 

And so it seemed that Miss Chenault 
could administer unkind cuts in other 
directions also. 

Ffairfax compressed his lips and said 
nothing, but the innocent clover tops 
suffered anew as the two made their way 
across the lawn. 


CHAPTER II. 


Mrs. Travers turned a troubled, morti- 
fied face to Dr. Kent. 

I cannot ask you,” she said, “ to par- 
don sucb unpardonable rudeness. Indeed, 
yvhat can I say in extenuation ? She is 
so very wilful and reckless, and has been 
so badly spoiled, and — and — withal she is 
so very dear.” 

“ Say nothing whatever,” he smiled 
reassuringly, seeing that she was really 
distressed. “ Let it annoy you as little 
as it does me, and you will think of it no 
more. After all, Miss Chenault is justi- 
fied. She only reminded me that it was 
no affair of mine. I was, perhaps, unduly 
officious.” 

“ It is like your kindness and gener- 
osity to put it in that way, but it is not 
true, of course,” laying her hand lightly 
upon his arm and smiling. ^‘‘Unduly 
officious,’ indeed. What nonsense ! ” and 
then, more seriously : I have known 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


29 


you but a few years, Dr. Kent, and yet 
the wonder is how I ever managed to get 
along without you. You have somehow 
become part and parcel of our lives here. 
I find myself in all emergencies, trivial 
or otherwise, intuitively turning to you 
as an ever-ready, never-failing reliance. 
Ah ! I fear you will think me a garrul- 
ous, foolish, old woman, stopping short. 

“ I think you are the very kindest 
friend a man ever had,’’ he replied warmly, 
grasping the delicate hands, “ and I wish 
it had been my fortunate lot to have 
known you sooner.” 

He spoke earnestly, for he was a little 
touched, and a little flattered, too, perhaps. 
There were, then, after all, some appre- 
ciative people in the world. 

A short silence ensued, during which 
they both gazed after the retreating 
figures. 

What do you think of them ?” Mrs. 
Travers asked, and there was the possible 
suggestion of a sigh in her voice. 

‘‘What do I think of them?” repeated 
the doctor, starting slightly, as if the sim- 
ple question trenched upon critical ground. 


30 


Slk SUPERIOR. 


“ What do I think of them ? I am afraid,’^ 
puzzled, “ that I hardly know what it is 
you mean.” 

“ Ah ! I had hoped you would know 
at once what I meant. I have been intend- 
iug for some time to ask your opinion, 
for,” confidentially, “ you must have seen 
how matters were tending. It will be a 
suitable and advantageous match. I have 
always wished itj and Ffairfax, you know, 
has loved her for years;” 

“ And Miss Chenault ?” asked the doc- 
tor, as he slowly dissected one of the dis- 
carded roses. “ Does she love him ?” 

Mrs; Travers sighed. 

‘ That is just the trouble, but,” plain- 
tively and parenthetically, “ Vivian always 
does make trouble — I suppose she always 
will. I hardly think she knows her own 
mind, and I am quite sure that she does 
not appreciate Ffairfax and his deep and 
faithful devotion. There is certainly no 
reason why she should not love him, and 
there is every reason why she should.” 

“ Love has never, I believe, been amen- 
able to reason,” observed the doctor 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


31 


didactically, “ and I doubt if it ever will 
be.” 

“ No,” reluctantly. “ But love must be 
influenced, more or less, by circumstances 
and environment.” 

“ Undoubtedly.” 

“ And in this case it ultimately will be. 
There is no one she likes better, or re- 
spects and admires more. She admits 
that much. You see,” smiling, “I have 
been interceding for Ffairfax recently. 
He came to me in despair the other day, 
and I volunteered my sei vices. I have 
reasoned with her as to the advisability 
of the step, have expressed my wishes and 
given my advice in the matter.” 

“ And does Miss Chenault suffer her- 
self to be advised in such a matter?” with 
a curtness so unusual that Mrs. Travers 
gave a surprised start. 

“Why, certainly. Dr. Kent. Vivian — = 
wilful and opinionated as she is — always 
listens respectfully to what I say, although 
she may not always heed. In this instance^ 
however,” complacently, “ I thilik she 
will ; indeed, she almost as good as prom- 


32 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


ised that Ffairfax should not plead his 
suit again in vain.’^ 

“ I suppose, then, we ^may look upon 
them as affianced ?” and the doctor^s voice 
was at a dead level, as if all interest in 
the subject had vanished with the van- 
ishing figures across the lawn. 

“ Yes, and if you understood what a 
weight of responsibility it has lifted from 
my shoulders you would congratulate me.” 

“ But I don’t understand it at all.” 

“ Rather for some perverse reason you 
won’t understand it,” and she smiled, 
though in reality she was a trifle per- 
plexed and impatient at a certain impal- 
pable something in his manner that was 
not agreeable. 

“ Vivian is a handsome girl,” she contin- 
ued, “and has had admiration and adulation 
enough to turn her head, heaven knows. 
I have been so afraid of some — some — in- 
discretion, or rather some mesalliance — ” 
pausing abruptly, as if at a loss how to 
proceed. 

The doctor was nonplussed, but politely 
accorded the attentive, conservative silence 
that the hiatus demanded. 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


33 


I am not as young as I once was/’ 
Mrs. Travers resumed, with apparent 
irrelevance, “ and these children may be 
left alone any day, and without me, terri- 
bly alone and isolated they would be. 
Ffairfax Travers is eligible to a degree, 
all that any one could desire. He is a 
gentleman — a man of integrity ; to his 
wife he will be lover — friend — protector. 
Precious as Vivian is to me, I am willing 
to consign her to his keeping, for it is a 
trust that will not be abused. Yes,” in a 
tone of relief, “ I will be glad when they 
are well married and settled. But I am 
boring you, no doubt, with all this idle 
chatter, and not giving you a chance to 
express the opinion I began by asking.” 

“ Perhaps, since you are so well satisfied 
with the situation, it were wiser to with- 
hold that opinion. Perhaps,” smiling, 
“ you might not relish it after it was given. 
Perhaps we might even quarrel after all 
our vaunted friendship.” 

“ No danger of that ; I’m not afraid. 
But I think I can guess it, whether you 
express it or not. Y ou mean,” tentatively, 
that you would object to this union on 


34 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


the score of kinship. But they are not, 
as you may have supposed, first — even 
second — cousins. In fact, they are only 
distantly related, Ffairfax being the son 
of one of my husband^s cousins.” 

Oh, no!” quickly. “I had no refer- 
ence whatever to that I hesitated be- 
cause my ideas of marriage are decidedly 
primative and may be considered a trifle 
old-fashioned and straightlaced in this 
progressive age of marriages of conven- 
ience — marriages of money — marriages of 
expedience — divorceable, geographical, 
haphazard marriages.” 

“ But you must approve of this mar- 
riage. No one could disapprove. It is 
desirable from every point of view.” 

There is but one point of view from 
which marriage can ever be desirable.” 

“ And that is ?” 

That of mutual love and trust and 
congeniality A marriage that is based 
upon anything else is no marriage at all, 
but a mere travesty of the highest and 
most sacred ordinance of life. I would 
not marry a woman, however much I 
might love her, who had to be advised and 


SIR SUPERIOR* 


35 


coaxed and badgered by a third party into 
the bargain. Unless she came to me will* 
ingly, she should not come at all.^’ 

“ You surprise me, certainly,” said Mrs* 
Travers, smiling at his extreme earnest- 
ness. “ I had not credited you with so 
much sentiment, but evidently you have 
never loved any woman. When you do 
your views will alter materially. You 
will be, as all other men are, glad to take 
her on any terms whatever. Don-t look 
so incredulous. Believe me, I am wiser 
than you in these matters. We may all 
in exalted moments mount ideal hobbies 
of sublime sentiments — lofty theories — 
unimpeachable standards ; but so long as 
we must live and deal daily with frail, 
faulty, erring humanity, then just so long 
must we adapt ourselves to circumstance, 
environment, personalities. In short, make 
the best of life as we find it.” 

“ We may do that, too, I hope, without 
compromising principle ; but haven’t we 
switched off from the main track ?” 

Have we ?” laughing. To return 
then, I repeat that I will be glad when 
Vivian is Ffairfax Travers’ wife. It will 


36 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


be impossible then/’ irrelevantly, “ for her 
to get some mad, romantic idea in her 
head and run away with a smooth-tongued 
villian who will desecrate and make her 
life wretched and unbearable.’’ 

^Why, Mrs. Travers,” laughed the doc- 
tor, amused in his turn, “ I was not aware 
that Miss Chenault was given over to 
’such dangerous and deplorable tendencies. 
She has always impressed me as an ad- 
mirably well-poised, clear sighted young 
woman, so far at least as her own interest 
is concerned. I hardly think,” a trifle 
bitterly, ‘‘ that there is any danger of her, 
under any circumstances whatever, for- 
getting herself in the way you have inti- 
mated.” 

Perhaps not — I trust not — and yet my 
own peculiar experience has rendered me 
peculiarly sensitive — aye — almost morbid 
on the subject. You have never heard 
the story. Listen, and judge whether or 
no I have cause for apprehension : 

“ My own marriage was an exception- 
ally happy one, and when, in less than 
two years, my husband died suddenly I 
was utterly bereft, heartbroken, inconsol- 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


37 


able. All that was left to me out of the 
joyous, vanished past was a little daughter, 
and it was her baby fingers and lisping 
voice that rescued me from the slough of 
despond into which I had sunk. 

“ She was the one touch of brightness 
that reconciled me to life. I will not dwell 
upon it. You can, perhaps, imagine all 
she was to me — how every interest, hope, 
thought centered in her. 

^^She was beautiful, like and yet unlike 
Vivian. You — every one, indeed — might 
give precedence to Vivian, but to me 
nothing can ever be as lovely as my own 
-little girl. 

“Ah ! the dreams that I dreamed of the 
child’s future — the fancies I wove — the 
castles I reared — the love that I lavished. 
She was my idol, and you know we are 
warned not to take unto ourselves idols. 
Happy is he who is wise enough to profit 
by such warning. 

“ At seventeen she left me — me, her 
mother, and for what? To follow the 
fortunes of a low, scheming, depraved, 
French adventurer. She had known him 
but a few months; just how the acquaint- 


38 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


ancesHip began and ripened into intimacy 
I could never understand — never solve nor 
comprehend. It was at the riding school 
she attended that they first met. He oc- 
cupied some menial position — assistant or 
groom, perhaps — a low-bred scoundrel, but 
withal schemer euough to iugratiate him- 
self into her favor and accomplish his dar- 
ing purpose of induciug her to elope with 
him. The note I found in her room I can 
repeat now, for every cruel word seared it- 
self into my memory. 

‘‘ ^ Mamma, darling,^ it ran, ‘ I am say- 
ing goodby to you forever — yes, forever, 
for I know you so well that I know even 
were your heart to plead for me your pride 
would never heed. Mamma, never think 
that I did not love you — that I shall not 
always love you — but remember your own 
happy courtship and marriage (that you 
have told me of so often) and let the 
thought of them intercede in my behalf 
and excuse, in some measure, a course 
that will at first seem incomprehensible to 
you. I love Adolphe. He is all to me 
that papa ever was to you. It is only such 
a powerful and overwhelming love that 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


could induce me to leave you. And now 
goodby. He is waiting — he is calling. 
Goodby, mamma, goodby forever. Do not 
forget sometimes to pray for your ever^ 
loving Baby.^ 

“ My grief, my despair, my humiliation 
and degradation, no words can portray. 
But I was inflexible. I made no inquiry 
— no effort to recall or reclaim her. It 
was as if the grave had engulfed her. 

“ No one ever so much as mentioned 
her name in my presence. 

Seven years passed — seven years with 
never a word or token. 

“Ah! those seven years I” and Mrs. 
Travers wrung her hands and shuddered, 
looking upward and beyond. She had 
forgotten her listener. 

“ I wonder if, even in eternity, I shall 
be clear of their baleful shadow? For, 
though it seems ages ago, the thought of 
them maddens me yet. How could I stand 
back nursing my wrath and pride, while 
there was still time — when I might have 
seen, spoken to her, held her once again 
to my heart, saved her ? Oh 1 my poor, 
misguided baby 1 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


40 

“ And then one day a letter came bear- 
ing a foreign postmark. 

“ ‘ I am dying, mamma. Consumption, 
they say, but you perhaps can guess it is 
of a broken heart. Some one is kind 
enough to write, but, believe me, on my 
account I would have died and made no 
sign. 

‘“I have reaped all the terrible and 
bitter harvest that any one— even the 
most vengeful — could desire, for my rash 
and selfish conduct. There is no penalty 
I have not paid. But it is too late for any 
regret — any atonement ; and, as I have 
said, I do not now appeal to you on my 
own behalf. It is not, I pray, too late for 
this also ? The mother’s heart is not dead 
within you? 

I have children, mamma, a little 
daughter six years old and a baby boy. 
Adolphe deserted me months ago. You 
cannot — you dare uot — refuse to rescue 
my little girl from the terrible fate to 
which I must leave her — a waif in the 
slums and gutters of Paris.’ 

“ I hastened to them at once, but, alas ! 
arrived in time only for one last caress — 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


41 


one forgiving kiss ere the poor lips were 
forever sealed with, that other pitiless kiss 
of death. 

“ The children, of course, have been my 
constant care and comfort and sole conso* 
lation since. At first their father threat- 
ened to assert his authority, and dogged 
and harassed me continually, but he was 
finally appeased with money — all that he 
had ever wanted. I transmitted him a 
regular allowance until his death, which 
occurred some years since. Now 

“ I wish, grandmamma, broke in Raoul, 
closing his book impatiently, “ that you 
would never speak of these things. It 
always makes you miserable for hours 
after, and whereas the good of it? Take 
me away, Jarboe,” in sharp, peremptory 
tones. “Donh you hear? Quick, I say !” 

“The child is right,” sighed Mrs. 
Travers, as the valet wheeled the invalid’s 
chair away. “ It is best, perhaps, that the 
dead past should bury its dead and keep 
its own secrets. But, somehow, you have 
entered so closely into our lives, it seemed 
but just and due that you should know 
the whole, sad story. I had intended 


42 


SIR superior. 


speaking of it before, and the subject of 
this proposed marriage furnished an oppor- 
tune occasion. Now,’’ with a wistful appeal 
in her voice, “ that you understand all of 
the circumstances of the case, do you 
wonder at, of can you censure, my anxiety 
in the matter ?” 

“ No, it is altogether natural, if not jus- 
tifiable, but I can see how it may lead you 
into error in an opposite direction. In 
your dread of Miss Chenault repeating 
her mother’s sad experience, you seem to 
forget the unhappiness that may accrue 
from a forced and loveless marriage, for, 
being a perversion of the highest, holiest 
truth, it cannot fail of being also miser- 
able, unsatisfactory, incomplete — a verita- 
ble death in life.” 

“ And you seem to forget,” smiled Mrs. 
Travers, “that the marriage in question 
is not ‘ forced,’ and, as for love, the trouble 
is that Ffairfax loves her too well. He 
will spoil and humor her out of all reason. 
No, no, doctor, I feel that I am right in 
this matter, and I reiterate that I will be 
both happy and relieved when it is well 
over with and irretrievably settled.” 


CHAPTER III. 


“ How can you 

Dr. Kent, unaware of Miss Chenault’s 
proximity, turned with a slight start at 
the sound of the mocking, indolent voice. 

She was standing just behind him, learn 
ing lightly against one of the vine-covered 
pillars of the veranda. 

The morning was fair and bright, hut 
even now — while the day was yet in its 
tender, rose-tinted youth — pitilessly, un- 
equivocally hot, with never the faintest, 
most coquettish breeze to lure a ripple 
from the tree tops or coax the sunbeams 
into gentler mood. 

Raoul had been prostrated the evening 
previous by one of the periodical attacks 
incident to his condition, and Dr. Kent, 
after remaining with him until a late 
hour, had been summoned anew this 
morning, more, however, to humor the 
sick boy^s whims than from actual neceg^ 
3ity. 


44 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


His presence invariably exercised its 
own peculiar charm over the impatient, 
irascible cripple, and he had but just left 
him now, resting quietly, to give an im- 
perative order to his attendant. 

“ Get back as quick as possible, David,’^ 
he had enjoined as a parting injunction. 
‘‘ Remember, I am waiting, and time is 
precious. 

It was as the man drove away that Miss 
Chenault, stepping through the drawing- 
room window, had surprised him with her 
question : 

“ How can you ?” 

“ How can I what ?” he repeated, a trifle 
puzzled. “ What am I doing now that is 
reprehensible ?” 

“How can you be so energetic? So 
exasperatingly industrious ? So uncom- 
fortably busy, when every one else has 
succumbed to this enervating weather? 
Is it from an exaggerated sense of duty? 
Or is it prompted by a mere fiendish desire 
to put other less exemplary mortals to 
shame ? Or is it because you are really 
afraid if you stopped, even to take breath, 
that the whole universe might stop also ?’^ 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


45 


“ Neither of the three/’ he replied 
gravely. “ It is because if I didn’t do 
something aggravating and disagreeable 
Miss Chenault would have nothing at all 
to find fault with, and consequently the 
inanity of this enforced life at Ingleclyffe 
might become simply intolerable.” 

“ How very considerate,” she laughed. 

“ The fervid temperature, then, quickens 
your altruistic instincts ?” 

Oh, no ; the temperature has nothing 
whatever to do with it. It is altogether 
out of the question, for in such a busy 
world, where there is so much to be done, 
and where, at best, one can hope to accom- 
plish so little, one can hardly afford to 
regulate one’s conduct by a few degrees 
more or less of Fahrenheit.” 

Apparently Vivian was heeding no 
further. She had reached upward to 
gather one of the thick, purple clusters of 
bloom that hung overhead. It was a 
pretty, effective pose, for the loose sleeve 
of her morning gown, falling backward, 
revealed to advantage the white beauty of 
her arm, and, moreover, when she had got 
the flower and held its cool petals, half 


46 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


caressingly, against her cheek, the rich 
glow of its purple paled by contrast with 
the richer purple of her eyes. 

A woman less royally dowered might 
perhaps have been less daring in braving 
the bold glare of the sun. But Miss 
Chenault^s beauty was peerless, and she 
knew it. A strong light could only re- 
veal its perfection. And so she purposely 
stood where a sunbeam, straying through 
the vines, fell directly athwart her brow, 
knowing full well that if it should touch 
her hair it would at once be rivaled in its 
brightness— that if it rippled across her 
cheek it would only emphasize the ex- 
quisite texture of her complexion — if it 
shimjnered down into her eyes it would 
forthwith be submerged in limitless, un- 
fathomable, violet depths — if it kissed her 
lips it could only intensify their sweet- 
ness, and make one long to kiss them 
also. No, she had nothing to fear from 
the light ; but, notwithstanding this com- 
placent consciousness, she failed to detect 
in the frank, gray eyes looking into hers 
the usual quota of homage accorded, and 
§he remembered Raoul’s taunt of a few 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


47 

days previous and was momentarily 
piqued. 

Was it that she really sought Dr. 
Kent^s approbation, or was it merely a 
mischievous desire to disturb his equa- 
nimity — to ruffle his serene^ uniform, 
impurturable indifference? 

Hitherto her rudeness, her defiance^ her 
insolence, even her ridicule, had been alike 
powerless to provoke him. Whatever her 
fitful mood, he had invariably extended to 
her the quiet, deferential courtesy that 
was due in Mrs. Travers’ house to Mrs. 
Travers’ granddaughter. 

Her flippant, aggravating speeches he 
had ignored as those of a child, or rather 
as too trivial to be accounted seriously. 
On one occasion he had said (as Raoul 
had retailed to her with malicious satisfac- 
tion) when Mrs. Travers had apologized 
for her rudeness : 

Don’t let it annoy you, dear friend. 
It amuses her, and, believe me, it is with- 
out effect upon me.” 

This morning, however, it was neither 
an invidious nor mischievous spirit that 
actuated her as she emerged from the 


48 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


drawing-room at the sound of voices It 
was simply because Raoul’s illness, hav- 
ing rendered the house duller than usual, 
she was oppressed with ennui and wanted 
diversion. 

“ If there is such a vast deal to be done, 
and one can hope at best to do so little,” 
she responded finally, with downcast eyes, 
slowly shredding the purple spray, “ it 
seems scarcely worth while to make any 
effort at all. Why not enjoy ourselves 
and let the rest go ?” 

‘‘ That, Miss Chenault, is very per- 
nicious philosophy indeed.” 

Philosophy,” with a visible shudder of 
mock horror, “ I hope I am never guilty 
of anything as pretentious and formidable 
as philosophy.” 

“ Oh,” smiling, “ if the word appalls 
you we can substitute some other — argu- 
ment, idea, sentiment, what you will — 
but it is pernicious all the same. We are 
nothing if we are not useful. Use is the 
highest development of which life is capa- 
ble. It is, indeed, the basic principle — 
the motive power of heaven itself.” 

“ I don’t know whether I follow you 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


49 


clearly/’ she said, with an assumption of 
gravity, but surely you entertain no 
wild, socialistic scheme of revolutionizing 
the accepted, conventional idea of Para- 
dise ? You and your Mr. Swedenborg 
would not wittingly deprive us of our or- 
thodox heaven — our white robes and 
golden crowns — our delicious, do-nothing 
theory of everlasting rest and blessedness 
— and convert us into a band of miser- 
able, overworked galley slaves ?” 

“ It is a minor consideration,” he laughed, 
and it may indeed be merely a matter of 
taste — or rather state — as to whether we 
shall be clothed in virgin white or the 
more gaudy yet impressive garb of our 
convict brethren, but the cardinal truth 
will remain the same, that as angels we 
will be neither idle, stationary nor retro- 
gressive. Heaven is a state of continuous 
progression, in which the highest, noblest 
faculties of our nature will be unremit- 
tingly employed and developed for eternal 
and universal good.” 

How horrible !” gasped Vivian “And, 
if it be true, my chances of attaining 
heaven are slight indeed ; for candidly, 


StR SUi^ERlOR. 


5 ^ 

doctor, you never knew a more idle, sm 
perfluous specimen of humanity than my- 
self. Don’t answer ; your expression com 
victs you. But,” helplessly, “ there is 
really nothing for me to do — absolutely 
nothing. Can’t you, with this high-flown 
doctrine of utilitarianism, offer a sugges- 
tion ?” 

“We are all free agents, and our en- 
vironment, we may be sure, is always 
such as to enable us to make the best of 
ourselves if we only will to do so.” 

“ But I don’t ‘ will ’ to do so, as you put 
it. ‘ There’s the rub.’ It wearies me,” 
stifling a slight yawn. “ Once upon a 
time, when I was young — like the very 
good girls in the very bad story books — 
I attempted a charitable, well-intentioned 
venture among my indigent neighbors 
hereabouts.” 

“ With what results ?” 

“ Sad. One might imagine now,” rais- 
ing her heavenly eyes demurely to his, 
“ that I could pose quite effectively in a 
decorous, saint-like role, but, alas ! such 
was not the case. It was all an igno- 
minious failure. I found myself painfully 


SIR SUPKRIOR. 


51 


de trap and was speedily given to under- 
stand tHat my room was preferable to my 
company. For the most part, they not 
only resented, but were affronted at the 
intrusion, and I am quite sure envied if 
they didn’t positively hate me, because I 
was happy and young and well-favored 
and blessed with worldly goods. They 
wouldn’t listen to the Bible at all ; they 
failed utterly to appreciate the Scriptural 
promises of reward and happiness here- 
after. I rather think they would have 
preferred some tangible benefits here — 
they were opposed to waiting and had no 
faith whatever in a God who divided 
things so unequally. And I don’t know 
but what they were right.” 

It was very discouraging,” amused. 

In a manner, yes. It didn’t do them 
the least bit of good, but it took lots of 
the conceit out of me. It proved con- 
clusively also that I could never work my 
way to heaven on a missionary line, if at 
all. But tell me, are there any ready- 
made angels in this novel heaven of yours 
— job lots as it were — angels created from 
the beginning, I mean, who have never 


52 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


been troubled with working out their sal- 
, vatidn?” 

“ No, decidedly, such a thing would be 
impossible. Justice forbids, and Divine 
Order is immutable and cannot be re- 
versed. There are, it is true, different 
degrees, and some angels attain higher 
states than others, but one and all have 
had a material existence, in a material 
sphere, somewhere and some time, where 
the foundation of a spiritual and angelic 
life has been laid.^’ 

“ I don’t believe that at all,” with 
prompt, unequivocal skepticism. 

“Why not?” curiously. 

“ Because human nature is too perverse 
and perverted — too depraved and self cen- 
tered. It is not possible for even an om- 
nipotent God to form a heaven composed 
entirely of human beings.” 

“ You think not ?” 

“I am sure not. Why, ofttimes we 
destroy what happiness might fall to our 
lot here by malice, envy and intolerance ; 
and are constantly creating for ourselves 
unnecessary purgatories by our own mis- 
deeds and selfishness. Oh, no! deliver 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


53 ' 


• 

me from a heaven peopled exclusively 
with ordinary, everyday mortals. It would 
be too much like eating mere bread and 
butter when you are invited out to tea. I 
aspire to something different.’^ 

Dr. Kent laughed 

“Your pessimism surprises me, cer- 
tainly. But you’ve got the wrong, idea to 
start with. Heaven is a state rather than 
a place, and it is not a question of our 
getting into it, but of getting it into us. 
Once get heaven into you, and nothing can 
keep you out of heaven, and this can be done 
only by subjugating the self-hood and its 
attendant evils that you have just enum- 
erated and seem to despair of. But here 
is David back already. I must be going. 
Good morning. Miss Chenault,” lifting 
his hat and stepping toward the buggy. 
“ Thank you for a pleasant half hour.” 

But the next moment he turned and re- 
ascendea the steps. She was still leaning 
over the railing, idly twirling the purple 
blossom, and he stopped just where his 
eyes came on a dead level with hers. 

“ You have perhaps heard,” he said, de- 
liberately taking the poor, ill-used flower 


54 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


from her fingers, “ that old adage about 
charity beginning at home, and — well^ 
appropos of — oh, of nothing in particular 
—don’t you think that you might look in 
upon Raoul when he wakes ? He is fret- 
ful and impatient, and this illness is 
tedious and — ^and — I 'rather fancy you 
might amuse him. Promise me.’^ 

“ And I rather fancied,” quite sedately, 
but with a quizzical look into the earnest 
eyes, “ that Dr. Kent posed as a most wise 
and wonderful Aesculapius. I fancied 
also that Raoul was nervous and that his 
case demanded an anodyne rather than a 
counter-irritant. Idle, irrelevant fancies, 
no doubt,” with which, laughing, she dis- 
appeared into the Rembrantesque back- 
ground of the shadowy drawing-room, and 
he drove at a rattling pace down the hot, 
white road. 


CHAPTER IV. 


“ This is the first habitable place I have 
found to-day.” 

Ffairfax Travers was the speaker, and 
the place designated the cool, quaint, old- 
fashioned drawing-room at Ingleclyffe. 

Vivian was seated at the piano, making 
an idle pretense of practising. The hand- 
some instrument (barring Miss Chenault 
herself, whose morning toilet, from the 
crown of her high coiffure to the tip of 
her Louis Quinze slipper, was faultlessly 
modish) was the one visible thing sug- 
gestive of our ornate, up-to-date smart- 
ness. The room aimed at nothing more 
ambitious than handsome, solid comfort ; 
and that it attained to a degree. Per- 
vading the whole place was an atmosphere 
of reprose and dignity — a certain quiet 
yet proud consciousness of unassailable 
superiority. Whether this was due to the 
massive mahogany furniture, mellowed by 
age into rich, somber tints, or to the wide, 


56 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


old-fashioned fireplacCj tiled and fitted 
after the manner of a century since ; or to 
the rare, dim pictures and stately mirrors 
adorning the walls ; or to the few choice 
bits of sculpture and bronze scattered here 
and there, it would be impossible to say. 
But it was unmistakably there, palpable 
yet impalpable — forcible yet unobtrusive 
— the simple repose and dignity. 

It resembled much the air of quiet, un- 
assuming, courteous stateliness that we 
sometimes (albeit rarely now) observe in 
very old people, or, more properly, people 
of the old school. Mrs. Travers herself 
had a trace of it. It is very beautiful, it 
is very impressive, it is not without even 
its touch of pathos, and we may in the 
rush and pressure of jostling, everyday 
life pause a moment to admire and wonder 
at it. But it has had its day. We are too 
busy, too intent, too practical, to accord it 
other than an approving nod en passant, 

Ffairfax Travers, however, had in his 
mind on this particularly fervid June 
morning no distinctly formulated idea as 
to the room and its accompaniments 
beyond the fact that, after the high pres- 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


57 


sure of town, the place was altogether 
acceptable and that Vivian in her summer 
gown, with the fragment of smilax at her 
bosom, stood forth in bold relief against 
the cool, shadowy background, and was the 
one sight in the world for him. 

He congratulated himself anew upon 
the fact that he had so summarily vetoed 
work and, both figuratively and literally, 
shaken the metropolitan dust from his 
feet and boarded the first train to Ingle- 
clyffe. 

As a rule, he was not an idle man ; 
indeed, his colleagues rallied him on an 
assiduity to business that was altogether 
unnecessary. He smiled at their chaff, 
but stolidly pursued his way, and a tri- 
umphant way it was. For while he may 
not have been endowed with the highest 
order of intellect, he possessed, what for 
all practical achievement was better still, 
a remarkable tenacity of purpose combined 
with a certain assertive, intrepid push and 
ready comprehension of the situation that 
had so far insured invariable success. 

Notwithstanding this penchant for busi- 
ness and finance, however, he was rather 


58 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


partial to society, and society, in turn, was 
more than partial to him. 

It goes without saying that a man 
young, affable, handsome, with an irre- 
proachable, blue-blooded pedigree, backed 
by an income amply sufficient to sustain 
it, even in princely fashion, should become 
at once a social idol. And if, under such 
auspicious nurturing, Ffairfax had also 
become a trifle conceited, it was due rather 
to a ready, innate habit of appraising all 
things at their just market value than to 
any undue, overweening egotism. It was 
nonsense to deny to himself — whatever 
the impression his careless, genial savoir 
vivre made upon others — that he was not 
only unquestionably popular, but a parti 
desirable and eligible to an eminent 
degree. 

His philosophic complacency had, how- 
ever, some time since received a check, or, 
more properly speaking, a decided shock, 
that had forcibly demonstrated to him 
that there were unknown quantities of 
feeling and emotion he had not fathomed, 
and to which his usual, nice, mathematical 


Sik SUPKRIOk. 


59 


deductions and exact equations could not 
successfully be applied. 

In other words — to be brief and com- 
prehensive — Ffairfax Travers had been 
rejected. 

Three years ago he had returned from 
a protracted stay abroad to find where he 
had left a hoidenish, spoiled child, with 
vet-y short frocks and very long curls, a 
tall, bewildering, imperious, young beauty 
who had at once set his senses aflame. 

In that first Inoment when — in the sur- 
prise of an unexpected meeting, the re- 
membrance of their kinship and the 
forgetfulness of the crown of recently 
assumed womanhood— Vivian had impul- 
sively lifted her lips to be kissed, he had 
registered a vow. 

Somehow, with all of their easy, happy 
intercourse, he had not since kissed the 
lips ; but the vow had remained .sacred 
and inviolate, and the fulfillment of it was 
the ruling aim of his life. 

Procrastination was not one of his 
faults, and he had not hesitated in as short 
order as was advisable to boldly declare 
his intentions. 


6o 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


The result had amazed, not to say 
stunned him, for it had hitherto been with 
him pretty much a matter of coming, see- 
ing and conquering. 

“ Why ?” he had asked in astonishment, 
too genuine to consider politeness. Why 
could she not marry him ?” 

“ ‘ Why V Simply because she did not 
love him.’^ 

Unfortunately, then, he had been im- 
politic enough to propound another equally 
puzzled and impertinent “ Why and 
thereupon Miss Chenault had promptly, 
perhaps justifiably, crushed him. 

“ Why she could not love him ?” with 
a slight uplifting of her brows and an 
inimitable air of hauteur. “ Really, it 
might be a matter altogether surprising 
and incomprehensible to him, but never- 
theless it was true.’’ 

For the time being, then, the subject 
was dropped, but it would not have been 
Ffairfax Travers if he had abandoned his 
purpose or swerved one iota in his deter- 
mination. 

The rebuff was undeniably depressing 
and unlooked for, and at first he took it 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


6i 


very much to heart. But he never took 
it seriously, or for one moment accepted 
it as final. Indeed, upon the whole, it had 
rather added a spice and flavor to the 
affair that was not without charm. 

With unlimited and unshaken faith in 
himself, and a certainty that there was no 
successful rival in the field, his honest 
conviction was that in time Vivian would 
succumb to fascinations that had hereto- 
fore carried success with them. 

It must be admitted, however, that so 
far he had reckoned without his host, and 
Miss Chenault had proved more obdurate 
and uncompromising than he had antici- 
pated. 

The 'probationary time had not been 
without its pleasant phases, but it had also 
taxed his patience and endurance to the 
utmost. Indeed, he had arrived at that 
climax when uncertainty was no longer 
possible. 

He had avowed as much to his ever- 
ready consoler, counselor and confidant, 
Mrs. Travers, and to his happy surprise 
had received renewed hope. 

Vivian, it seemed, had agreed to be 


62 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


more amenable to reason (that was to 
Ffairfax’s and her grandmother’s wishes) 
when Mrs. Travers had last urged the 
matter upon her. 

Notwithstanding which assurance, Ffair- 
fax Travers, although outwardly calm, 
debonair^ with even an exaggerated air of 
indolence, was inwardly racked with fear 
and doubt and painful misgivings as he 
sauntered leisurely into the somber old- 
drawing-room. 

He was too much a part of the everyday 
life at Ingleclyffe to be formally an- 
nounced, or for his entree to be a signal 
for the cessation of miladi’s pastime or 
occupation. 

Vivian, therefore, neither rose nor dis- 
continued her practicing as she looked 
over her shoulder at the sound of his 
voice and said indifferently : 

Is it really, then, so very warm ?” 

“ ‘ Warm ?’ I should say, or rather hot 
— a regular record-breaker— the hottest 
day of the season — too oppressively hot 
for anything but love and leisure.” 

“ Sir Superior says,” reprovingly, wheel-’ 
ing about and resting her elbows on the 


SIR SUPERIOP. 


63 


keys, “ that well-conducted people should 
not allow an insignificant thing like the 
weather to interfere with their duties.” 

“ It isn’t the first foolish thing he has 
said, is it ? But at any rate he is sincere 
enough to practice what he preaches. I 
met him just now, driving at break-neck 
speed — as if it weren’t dusty enough 
already — there had been an accident at 
the station, some trainman or Italian 
smashed up, I believe, and of course Kent 
was in demand. That is the worst of being 
a doctor, a man is never exempt ; there’s 
no pleasure in life for him ; he may be 
dragged from his own wedding, or unable 
to attend his mother-in-law’s funeral. It 
is a driving, slavish existence, with pre- 
cious little money in it at best.” 

“ That is true,” said Vivian, looking 
dreamily through the window, where 
beyond the sheltering, billowy sea of 
foliage the road lay white and hot beneath 
the blistering glare of the sun. “ But you 
know that Sir Superior rises above all 
such sordid considerations. His work 
carries its own compensation.” 

“ More simpleton he,” responded Ffair- 


64 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


fax shortly. He had not come here to 
talk twaddle about another nian^s tiresome 
theories, and was impatient. “ That is all 
ridiculous rubbish ; life isn^t worth living 
without money, and you know it.’^ 

“ Yes,’’ meekly acquiescent, “ but surely, 
Ffairfax,” persistently and looking directly 
at him, “ there are worthier, higher aims 
in life than the mere stupid accumulation 
of wealth ?” 

With one exception Ffairfax Travers 
did not think so, but he said with sus- 
picious readiness : 

“ Undoubtedly yes,” wondering mean- 
while, .perhaps for the thousandth time, if 
there were another woman in all the world 
as exquisite in toto as Vivian. “ I myself 
confess to a higher, worthier aim.” 

“ Do you, indeed ?^’ evidently well 
pleased. “ Then I owe you an apology, for 
I have been meting out reckless injustice 
to you. I didn’t give you credit for it. 
Tell me at once just what this praise- 
worthy aim is ; perhaps I might -help 
you.” 

“ Perhaps ; but do you really care to 
know ?” 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


65 


Of course/^ impatiently. 

Honor bright ?” 

‘‘ Don’t be so exasperating.” 

“ Well, then, since you insist upon it, it 
is — though you might have guessed, you 
have heard it so often before — it is to 
make you my wife.” 

The quick, angry color flamed into her 
cheeks, but her voice was quite cool and 
level, as she retorted : 

I cannot agree with you, for your chief 
aim just now seems rather a studied deter- 
mination to make yourself as obnoxious 
and impertinent as possible,” and then 
she wheeled and resumed her music with 
such vehemence that further conversation 
was impracticable. 

Ffairfax had blundered and was keenly 
conscious of it. What he had flattered 
himself was a clever bit of finesse had 
proved but the sorriest mishap, and he felt 
small and uncomfortable as he restlessly 
paced the room. 

He was making very poor headway 
indeed for a man who had “ a- wooing 
come.” He was disgusted with himself — 
disgusted with the situation. 


66 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


Inaction and uncertainty were, however, 
intolerable to him, and he soon paused 
abruptly behind Vivian and lightly 
touched her shoulder, saying moodily : 

“ How long am I supposed to submit to 
this sort of thing?” 

‘ This sort of thing,’ indeed. Why, 
Ffairfax, how excessively rude,” her hands 
dropping from the key-board to her lap. 
“ Is my poor music so very bad, then ? 
And I imagined you were entranced ; you 
used to fancy Chopin, I know, but cer- 
tainly I will stop if it annoys you,” closing 
the book. 

“ What an absurd pretense ?” he ejacu- 
lated impatiently, “ when you know so 
well what I mean. Raoul is right ; you 
are clever at evasion. But you have 
evaded me for the last time. I must have 
my answer to-day ; this very hour ; now,” 
slipping his arms about her waist, stoop- 
ing over her shoulder until his lips touched 
her hair and she could feel the sweep of 
his breath across her cheek. ‘'Speak to 
me, Vivian, dearest; this suspense is un- 
bearable.” 

“ Take your hands away, Ffairfax,” she 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


67 


said, coldly. “ You surely understand 
that I never permit anything of this kind.” 

“ I certainly understood,” he retorted, 
angrily, as he loosed his clasp, “ that my 
reception would be altogether different 
from this.” 

“ You are presumptuous, then, for you 
certainly never understood anything of 
the kind from me.” 

“ Perhaps not,” with grave dignity, 
looking down upon her from his full 
height, “ but I regarded it in that light 
when Aunt Travers told me that she 
had spoken to you upon the subject and 
advised me to renew my suit because you 
— but no matter, it cannot signify now. I 
beg your pardon. It was a mistake of 
hers, I suppose. It was not true at all, 
Vivian ?” and his voice broke into a sud- 
den, sharp, almost piteous appeal. 

He was thoroughly in earnest ; the 
nethermost depths of his nature were 
stirred ; never again in all time would any 
emotion be as true, as real, as powerful as 
was this love for the woman before him. 

His very sincerity merited considera- 
tion, respect, admiration, but Vivian 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


accorded nothing. She was altogether 
unmoved and sat with downcast e^^es, lost 
apparently in contemplation of the fair, 
jeweled hands that strayed idly over the 
keys. 

There is a certain cruelty and callous- 
ness that is as common to youth as is its 
very freshness and innocence — the cruelty 
and callousness of inexperience and ig- 
norance. It is only from those who have 
sounded the whole gamut of poor human- 
ity’s woes that we may expect the full, 
sweet, responsive symphony of sympathy. 

Vivian was not only young, but her life 
had been one continual gala affair — a level 
stretch of sunlight unbroken by the 
shadows. 

She was neither touched nor disquieted 
by the fervency of her lover, and leisurely 
finished the inspection of the beautiful 
hands before she raised her eyes, clear 
and unabashed, to his and broke the re- 
strained, uncomfortable silence that had 
fallen between them. 

“ No,” she said, “ to be quite honest, 
^fairfax, I must admit that grandmamma 
was not mistaken. She did speak to me 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


69 


and I promised — it is true — all that she 
told you, and I propose to keep my word, 
but — . No. Stop,’’ protestingly. “You 
must not, indeed,” checking the caresses 
he would have showered upon her. “You 
must listen first ; at all events, I shall 
not deceive you. Three years ago I re- 
fused you because ” 

“Yes, yes,” impatiently, kneeling at 
•her side and pressing hot, quick kisses on 
the hands that were gathered in his. 
You refused me because you thought you 
did not love me, and I told you I was 
willing to bide my time, well assured of 
what the result would be. You were 
younger then ; you did not know your 

own heart. Since you have learned ” 

“ Do not delude yourself,” she inter- 
rupted quickly, “Since I have learned 
nothing,” and the cold, dead level of her 
voice was in sharp and painful contrast to 
his eager, joyous tones. “ I am marrying 
you because grandmamma wishes it and 
urges it upon me — because you wish it 
and think that your happiness is at stake 
— because I honestly believe it to be the 
wisest and best thing to do. And, after 


70 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


all,” with a swift, fleeting look down into 
his eyes, half shy, half laughing, and 
wholly irresitible, that fairly intoxicated 
him, “ you are a most delightful person. 
There is nobody I like half so well, or 
that is half so good, and I don’t really 
see how I could afford to dispense with 
you — or how, indeed,” with a sudden 
catch in her voice and resting her hand 
for one brief, tremulous moment upon his 
brow, “ I could afford to see you the prop- 
erty of another woman — . No, I will not 
be smothered.” 


Thus it was finally settled, and peace 
and happiness prevailed at Ingleclyffe. 
Vivian had pleased the two principal peo- 
ple in her world ; consequently her world 
was altogether a fair and beautiful one 
wherein to dwell, and over it she wielded 
absolute, royal sway. 

At the first suggestion she had promptly 
and peremptorily vetoed a speedy mar- 
riage, declaring that the reservation of 
the right to fix the time of execution was 
the chief condition of her capitulation, and 
she had encountered no active opposition. 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


71 


Ffairfax had conducted the campaign 
so far with such success that Mrs. Travers 
felt secure and content in leaving all sub- 
sequent details to his superior manage- 
ment, and he — although decidedly blank, 
not to say dumfounded, at Vivian’s in- 
definite, nugatory ideas of their marriage 
— apparently made little resistance. In 
reality he yielded nothing. It was his 
wisest policy to humor her whims and not 
to press his claim too urgently. Never- 
theless, he intended ere the summer was 
well flown, or the autumn had inaugurated 
her brilliant sway, that the full comple- 
ment of love should be his. 

In the dazzling flush of present success 
the memory of the probationary years had 
become obscured, and he forgot that Vivian 
— fair and gracious as she now seemed — 
was not so plastic as to be molded at will. 

Indeed, in these first few days succeed- 
ing his betrothal it could not be said that 
he argued the matter at all. He was ex- 
travagantly, ridiculously happy, well con- 
tent for awhile to drift with a tide that 
flowed with such sweet and rhymthical 
measure. 


72 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


His eagerness and joyous, boyish aban- 
don amused Vivian when it did not bore 
her. His passionate intensity she failed 
utterly to comprehend or to respond to. 

This apathy, or indifference, if not abso- 
lute heartlessness on her part, was the one 
shadow that marred the fair horizon of his 
happiness. More than once its unwel- 
come presence had chilled his ardor. 

Ffairfax Travers had heretofore believed 
himself to be an eminently proud man, 
but in the present instance, it must be 
confessed, he had rather ignominiously 
pocketed his pride. It was certainly not 
very flattering to a man who had been 
openly sought after and generally spoiled 
by women to be finally accepted for mere 
expediency’s sake — the most prosaic and 
matter of fact of reasons — the choice en- 
tirely uninfluenced by that grand passion 
that poets and novelists would fain have 
us believe is paramount to all else, and 
that Ffairfax Travers knew of a certainty 
was of supreme significance to himself. 

The situation was humiliating beyond 
a doubt, and his egotism and self-respect 
suffered sorely if secrectly ; indeed, onge 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


73 


open revolt was threatened. It came 
about after this fashion : 

‘‘Yes, it is pretty enough, Vivian said 
on one occasion, in answer to his query as 
to the merits and demerits of a pathetic, 
passionate, super-sentimental poem they 
had been reading together, “ and it does 
very well for a book, I suppose,” repress- 
ing a yawn, “ but we know so well— -you 
and I, Ffairfax — that it is not true---I 
mean true to nature ; no one ever acts or 
feels so in real life ” 

“ Vivian,” he exclaimed resentfully, 
almost angrily, “ what do you mean ? 
How can you say such things ?” 

His vehemence startled her. She looked 
up quickly, and, meeting his eyes, was 
suddenly covered with confusion, for she 
suddenly remembered (what for the 
moment had been forgotten) their newly 
assumed relations. 

“ Oh, I see,” she faltered, “ you 
think ” 

“ I think,” he interrupted indignantly, 
“ in consideration of the fact that it has 
hardly been three days since you promised 
tQ be my wife that the ^vpw^l of sugh 


74 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


sentiments is — well, to say the least, is 
not particularly flattering to me.” 

Now, above all else. Miss Chenault had 
resolved never to submit to any petty 
tyranny or hectoring from her future lord 
and master. 

The man might live possessing ele 
ments capable of dominating her nature, 
and whose absolute authority it would be 
her highest happiness to recognize and 
submit to in blind, blissful, idolatrous irre- 
sponsibility, but, alas ! such a man was 
not Ffairfax Travers. 

“ There is yet time,” she said indiffer- 
ently, sweeping him with cold, disapprov- 
ing eyes, her equipoise fully restored ; 
“ fortunately our recently exchanged 
promises are not irreclaimable, nor irrevo- 
cable.” 

It was then that he had been swayed by 
an impulse — brief and vascillating, it was 
true — to give her back her troth ; to fling 
her empty promise at her feet ; assert his 
faith in the divine supremacy of love, and 
repudiate, in just and honest indignation, 
any base and spurious substitute that was 
offered in its stead, 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


75 


He lived to learn how true an impulse 
it was, and, looking backward, saw too late 
where his error lay. 

But to-day his strength failed him. He 
was even frightened at such a seditious 
thought having gained so much as a 
momentary lodgment in his mind, and the 
next instant had snatched Vivian to his 
bosom and was impetuously kissing hair, 
eyes and lips. 

“ Never dare breathe such a thing 
again,” he said with mad passion. “ Your 
promise — Qur promise — zs irrevocable. 
Nothing should take you from me now.” 


CHAPTER V. 


*''' Au revoir^'‘ said Vivian, lightly, “I 
believe that you must hurry or you will 
not catch your train.” 

It was at dusk a few evenings later; 
she and Ffairfax had just returned from 
a drive and stood in the spacious hall that 
run the full length of the house. 

Yes, the train is almost due, and I 
am due in the city to-night, nolens volens ; 
but do you imagine I will be so dismissed? 
Remember I cannot see you at all to-mor- 
row. You have not so much as given me 
your hand, and say ^ au revoiA as care- 
lessly as if I were the veriest stranger.” 

“ Poor, injured boy,” she laughed. 
“ Ah, well, I will make amends,” assum- 
ing a mock formality. “ There is my 
hand, Mr. Travers, and with it best wishes 
for your welfare during your enforced ab- 
sence, as well as a hope for your safe and 
speedy return. Is not that sufficient?” 

‘ Mr. Travers,^ ” he quoted ; your 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


77 


hand, indeed I How well you know, sweet- 
heart, that it is not at all sufficient.^’ 

And then — well, no one, not even an 
acute listener, could have sworn positively 
that he took her in his arms and there 
was a fonder, warmer adieu ! but the hall 
-was very dim and shadowy and they were 
lovers saying goodby, in the seductive, 
summer twilight, and one is at least at 
liberty to draw one’s own conclusions. 

At all events, time, tide and the railway 
system wait for no man. 

There were a few, happy words — an im- 
patient, remonstrant “Ffairfax ! Ffairfax!” 
and he was gone, and Vivian, singing 
softly to herself and fastening in her cor- 
sage a bunch of Jacqueminot roses that 
gave a vivid touch to her otherwise color- 
less costume, for she was altogether in 
white even to the graceful Gainsborough* 
with its rich lace and creamy plumes, en- 
tered the library; it was light here, and 
sitting at a table, a newspaper held hap- 
hazard before him, was Dr. Kent. 

She stopped abruptly on the threshold, 
her first sensation one of sheer, down- 
right anger. Another woman might have 


78 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


retreated, for he had not apparently as yet 
discerned her; or, standing her ground, 
found the situation embarrassing ; but 
not so Miss Chenault. It was rare indeed 
when her superb audacity was not equal 
to the occasion, and it did not desert her 
now. She advanced boldly, quite un- 
abashed, into the room, carrying herself 
easily, even proudly, albeit mentally an- 
athematizing him the while. He must 
have been a listener, if not an eye-witness 
to the recent, ridiculous, erotical bout 
(Ffairfax was such a simpleton), for he 
was capable of any petty meanness, was 
this Sir Superior with his remarkable 
talent for always being in the wrong place 
at the wrong time. 

Dr. Kent was fully aware that he was 
awkwardly and unpleasantly in evidence ; 
and he was also duly and most humbly 
contrite for his involuntary offense, but, 
alas ! he possessed no weird and wizard 
spell of witchcraft wherewith to render 
himself invisible, and so could only lift 
his head and bow in the most ordinary, 
latter-day fashion to this enraged young 
princess. 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


79 ' 


There must have been witchraft lurking 
somewhere, though, for his poor eyes be- 
came suddenly dazzled and stared stupidly 
ahead transfixed beneath the new and won- 
drous light with which her presence had 
irradiated the whole place. 

“ Oh ! You are here,” she began in a 
tone clearly implying that it would be 
much more desirable if he were anywhere 
else under the sun. Raoul sick again, I 
suppose?” questioningly. “Poor boy!” 
carelessly inspecting some letters upon 
the table. 

And then unfortunately something un- 
toward happened ; she suddenly discov- 
ered (but by some subtle, mysterious pro- 
cess, for I will swear she was not locking 
at him) that the doctor’s paper was held 
upside down, and the utter ludicrousness 
of the whole situation flashed upon her, 
her sense of humor got the better of her 
dignity and she laughed. 

It was a fatal laugh. A man will for- 
give anything in a beautiful woman save 
open ridicule of himself. That is apt to 
prove the straw that exceeds the camel’s 
strength— the step that g^iuges the full 


8o 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


measure of the meekness of the uncom- 
plaining worm. 

“ Do you always read with the letters 
inverted? ” she asked demurely. “ How 
very peculiar ; another of your many 
idiosyncracies ? But perhaps,” with a di- 
rect and defiant look into his eyes, “ you 
were not reading at all — perhaps you were 
better employed — listening, for instance ?” 

Perhaps,” laconically, “ but hardly 
‘ better employed,’ for I was not specially 
edified by what I heard.” 

He was surprised at his own temerity, 
but hardly regretted it, for he was roused 
to retaliation. It is true that in his scram- 
ble to appear absorbed he had held the 
paper topsy-turvey, But the pretense of 
reading had been solely out of considera- 
tion for her — to spare her any confusion 
and embarrassment resulting from the 
awkward contretemps. He would gladly 
have obliterated himself had it been pos- 
sible, and was really contemplating an 
escape through the window in order that 
she might never suspect his proximity 
when she entered. It was rather hard 
lines, then, and altogether intolerable, tg 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


have the tables adroitly turned and to be 
openly laughed at by the real culprit her- 
self. 

Miss Chenault was surprised, too, at 
his rudeness, and did not greatly relish 
interchange of her own curt coin, for 
while quite capable on occasion of dis- 
courtesy to others she was yet peculiarly 
sensitive to it when directed toward her- 
self. She was far too diplomatic, how- 
ever, to betray chagrin, and it was her ad- 
versary who was still flushed, disconcerted, 
at a disadvantage. 

“ It doesn’t signify, anyway,” she said 
indifferently, “ for you know of course of 
the engagement,” breaking the seal of a 
letter and glancing smilingly through its 
brief contents. “ This is a note of con- 
gratulation now. All of my friends are 
well pleased. By the way,” suddenly 
dropping the letter and facing him directly, 
this reminds me, I have received no con- 
gratulations from Dr. Kent.” 

“ No. Neither will you.” 

The brusqueness of both words and tone 
startled her, and insensibly she drew back, 
lifting her head proudly as she said coldly: 


82 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


“ I may infer, then, that his wishes are 
not of the friendliest nature?” 

“ You may infer nothing of the kind,” 
still abruptly, rising and advancing a step 
nearer, “ but you may infer if you like 
that he appreciates too highly the beauty 
and holiness of the most sacred relation- 
ship that can exist between a man and a 
woman ever to condone a mere travesty 
of it — much less to ” 

“ What do you mean ? What are you 
daring to say?” she interrupted — angry, 
indignant, bewildered now, the sweet. 
Jacqueminot roses quivering visibly. 

I am daring to say the truth. I 
mean,” boldly — regardless of the white 
startled face and the wrath he has roused, 
reckless of all consequences, lashed onward 
by the passions that rend him — that 
you have pledged yourself to a man for 
whom you care nothing. You do not love 
Ffairfax Travers, and in giving yourself 
to him you desecrate the holiest of all 
sacraments — marriage. In taking upon 
yourself the vows that entail the highest 
duty and use a woman can know you are 
actuated by what ? The ” 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


83 


“ Silence !” she broke forth peremptorily. 
“ Do you imagine I will submit to such 
indignity — such intolerable insolence? 
By what right do you dare to thus consti- 
tute yourself my accuser and judge — to 
question anything I may see fit to say or 
do?” 

The}/ were standing face to face, very 
near together — so very near that the hem 
of her gown swept his foot — but he did 
not touch her by so much as the weight 
of a finger, and yet the magnetism of his 
personality surrounded and infolded her 
almost to suffocation and held her fast ; 
and in an instant — swift as light itself — 
even though his next words had been left 
forever unspoken, a revelation broke upon 
her. 

“ ‘ By what right ?’ By the divine right 
of love. It is because I love you that I 
would save you from the error of your 
misconceptions that — promising never so 
fairly now — can but lead to absolute, hope- 
less, irretrievable misery. You are capa- 
ble of better things ; beneath the shallow- 
ness and dross of your nature there is still 
a strata of true ” 


84 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


Oh ! thank you for that at least/^ she 
cried with satirical disdain. “ But this 
must end here I will listen no longer to 
a nonsensical tirade that would be infin- 
itely amusing were it not something in- 
finitely worse. Your every word is an in- 
sult.” 

“ ‘ Insult,’ ” he repeated, and he laughed 
discordantly. “ That is characteristic of 
your arrogance. But you will know some 
day — some day when you have mastered 
that strange, sweet lesson called loving 
and it has mastered you (ihe only thing 
that will ever master you) — that the honor- 
able love of an honorable man is never an 
insult.” 

“ ‘ An honorable man,’ indeed,” she 
echoed contemptuously. “ An honorable 
man would never force such unwelcome 
acknowledgments upon an unwilling lis- 
tener.” 

‘‘ That is true ; it is well to remind me,” 
the fire and passion gone from his voice. 
“ Pardon me, and after this I shall sin no 
more. And even this once it was your 
own fault. It was yourself who did it — 
however unwittingly — flaunting your 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


85 


beauty and brightness and happiness in 
my face. But how could you know — 
innocent one — the black and morbid mis- 
ery of my mood ? A child playing with 
fire iinawares — your very presence mad- 
dened me. Ah, you shrink,” for she had 
recoiled and her hands were uplifted as if 
she would shield herself from his very 
glance. “ But that, too, is unnecessary. 
I understand full well your abhorrence of 
me — God knows you have made it plain 
enough — but withal it is preferable to the 
sham affection you profess for the man to 
whom you have pledged your life, for it is 
at least sincere. It is not glossed with 
the damnable sin of hypocrisy. Your 
hatred is thorough, honest, true — your 
love altogether false ; a vaiu and shallow 
pretense ; a smirch on the fair escutcheon 
of your womanhood.” 

The next instant he was gone, and she 
was alone. She stood motionless for a 
few minutes, and then she made her way 
to one of the windows, threw it open and 
leaned forward as if to get as much as 
possible of the fresh, evening breeze. The 
subtle sense of suffocation had not left her 


86 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


altogether, and she was very much amazed 
and still very angry. 

It was true that for the sum and sub- 
stance of what he he had said she cared 
absolutely naught. 

Dr. Kent^s transcendental, idealistic 
ideas of the marital relation could be 
nothing but an inconsequential matter to 
Miss Chenanlt. 

He was at liberty certainly to maintain 
his own opinions — true or false, quixotic 
or otherwise — but he was just as certainly 
not at liberty to thrust those opinions un- 
solicited upon her, or to subject her course 
of conduct to the tribunal of his peculiar 
views. 

It was this officious interference, this 
daring insolence, appalling audacity (her 
vocabulary contained no expression strong 
enough for the occasion) that she resented 
with such angry and vehement indignation, 
and that was the unpardonable offense. 

It seemed incredible now, although the 
pressure of his preseuce was scarce re- 
moved and the air still vibrated with his 
resonant, passionate tones, that this man 
whom she thoroughly despised — this in- 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


87 


significant, egotistical, pedantic pedagogue, 
immeasurably her inferior in every respect 
— should presume to set in judgment upon 
her and take her to task in the severest, 
not to say most brutal, fashion. 

What if mere expediency had influenced 
her in this engagement to Ffairfax Travers. 
That was her affair and his, most certainly 
not Dr. Kent’s. 

There was one item, however, in footing 
up this exact, introspective balance that 
she could not ignore, and that struck her 
as rather odd, and that was that he had 
scored a centre shot, hitting the truth 
squarely, when he asserted that she did 
not love her affianced husband. 

She wondered how he knew so well, 
what no one else even suspected, for Ffair- 
fax was so- universally popular, so courted 
and sought after, at such a premium in 
the matrimonial market that her dear five 
hundred friends supposed of course that 
she adored him. So likewise supposed 
grandmamma; indeed, it was difficult to 
convince Ffairfax himself to the contrary, 
so determined was he that it should be so. 

That it was not so was a matter of no 


88 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


great concern to Miss Chehault. Slie had 
none of the illusions common to girlhood 
of a “ grand passion/’ 

Without any consciously formulated 
theory she was yet an absolute materialist, 
the evidence of her own senses consti- 
tuting her highest standard of truth. And 
assuredly this standard so far had justified 
no vast amount of faith in the master pas- 
sion of love. 

A few days since, when she had frankly 
declared to Ffairfax that sentiment and 
romance were mere rubbish and ruthlessly 
relegated them to the sphere of exagger- 
ated, poetical literature as something aside 
and apart from realistic experience, she 
had spoken sincerely and from honest con- 
viction. 

Now, though startled and bewildered, 
it was true, by Dr. Kent’s rash, unex- 
pected avowal, she was still untouched by 
the intensity of his passion and the pathos 
of his love. 

The whole occurrence was simply a dis- 
agreeable and very great surprise — so 
great, indeed, that it amounted to a posi- 
tive shock ; a shock, too, that she would 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


89 


not care to experience again. He had 
said that he would not repeat the offense, 
and she devoutly hoped he would keep 
his word. 

On this score, however, there was little 
to apprehend. 

As the calmest dawn will sometimes 
break after the most tempestuous night, 
so their next encounter chanced to be the 
most commonplace, matter-of-fact, placid 
affair. Indeed, it was rather difficult for 
Miss Cheuault to reconcile the cool, quiet, 
practical man at her brother’s bedside, en- 
grossed with his professional duties — ap- 
parently oblivious of her proximity — with 
the wrathful, passionate madman of a night 
or so previous. 

She had shrunk from meeting him, but 
his actual presence seemed to obliterate, 
rather than emphasize, the memory of 
that last, astounding, turbulent half hour. 
It faded away like intangible morning 
mists before the uncompromising light of 
day. 

It had been nothing — a mere dream— a 
chimera ; here before her was the reality 
l -the man in his true colors. 


90 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


The other had been a grotesque mas- 
querade — a phantasm, perhaps, of her own 
brain. She was bewildered ; but with her 
usual facile habit of leaving disagreeable 
things to take care of themselves, she 
gave the matter no further consideration. 

The doctor’s visits continued, for Raoul’s 
attack proved both serious and obstinate; 
consequently personal contact, more or 
less, was unavoidable. Their meetings, 
however, though frequent, were informal 
and inconsequent, and if either remem- 
bered the unfortunate lapse from conven- 
tional routine, it was not evideht to the 
other. 

The conviction that one has made a fool 
of one’s self is not a pleasant one, and 
Dr. Kent would have bartered some years 
of his life could he have recalled the brief 
half hour in which he had indisputably 
made a fool of himself. 

That he could not recall it was certain. 
It was gone irrevocably, leaving only the 
memory of the disaster it had wrought 
and the uncomfortable consciousness that 
he had, in the whirl of passion, done a 
very unwise thing — a thing that would 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


91 


have been much better left undone. He 
was not long out of Vivian^s presence 
when he realized all of this fully, and he 
was just as quick to realize that there was 
no reparation for the mischief done. 

It was hardly a thing that could be 
apologized for, even had he been so dis- 
posed. But he was not so disposed, for he 
could not consistently retract anything ; 
since, after all, he had spoken nothing 
but the 'truth. 

The truth, however — eminently desir- 
able as it must be admitted to be — is some- 
times infinitely better left unspoken, and 
Dr. Kent did not delude himself into be- 
lieving that on the present occasion it 
would not have been preferable to have 
remained silent and to have preserved that 
commendable guard over his unsuspected 
secret that he had hitherto maintained. 

He might find some small consolation 
in the fact that if his indiscreet avowal 
could profit him nothing it could lose him 
less, for he had absolutely naught at stake. 
His cause was a hopeless one. He had 
not deceived himself. When the surpris- 
ing consciousness first forced itself upon 


92 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


him that he loved this woman he had 
known it to be a vain and foolish passion, 
and had resisted it bravely, contesting 
every fresh encroachment of its ascendency 
over him. But, alas ! the conflict had 
been futile, with disastrous and humili- 
ating results. 

Long since he had given up the fight 
and acknowledged the supremacy of his 
foe. And what a dear foe it had become ! 
How it had disarmed him and intrenched 
itself within the innermost recesses of his 
soul. 

Vivian was not by any means his (or 
any one’s, for that matter) ideal woman. 
She was frivolous and selfish and almost 
everything that he disapproved. She was 
full of foibles and blemishes and weak- 
nesses that he roundly condemned — that 
is in the early days of his conflict — after 
he condoned them ; and then, alas ! he 
hugged them to his heart and loved her 
more for her faults than her virtues, just 
as if, could he have kissed her, he would 
have kissed a faint, little mole on her left 
temple (that perhaps no one else had ever 
observed) rather than her cheeks or lips. 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


93 


Yes, it was a mad infatuation, and he had 
been not only completely vanquished, but 
exulted in his downfall. All of this he 
freely conceded to himself, but it was 
hardly either his desire or intention to 
wear his heart upon his sleeve, and he had 
been very confident of his ability to guard 
his secret well, confident of inflexible self- 
control. How widely he had overestimated 
his strength he realized fully now, when 
one sudden gust of passion could so utterly 
sweep away all of the carefully erected bar- 
riers of wisdom, prudence and forethought. 

His self-condemnation and contempt 
were great, and it was the very reaction of 
his violence that had sustained him in 
these subsequent meetings with Miss 
Chenault. He would have been surprised 
could he have known truly how effectually 
the quiet, unobtrusive unconsciousness of 
his manner had assured her and restored 
her equanimity — in fact, had well nigh ef- 
faced all traces of his unfortunate blunder. 

He might have been a trifle chagrined, 
too, perchance, if he could have known 
also how very little she thought of, or 
cared for, him and his ill-starred passion. 


CHAPTER VI. 


Thus the early summer waned, and just 
as soon as Raoul’s condition permitted he 
was, under the doctor’s orders, packed off 
to the seaside, Mrs. Travers and Miss Che- 
nault aqcompanying. From the former 
Dr. Kent received regular bulletins as to 
his patient’s welfare and improvement, 
and sometimes spasmodic efforts from 
Raoul himself — long, rambling, disjointed 
effusions characteristic of the boy’s carp- 
ing, querulous nature, and not without the 
touch of spleen habitual with him, espe- 
cially when any allusion to his sister was 
made. 

As for instance, on one occasion : “ Later. 
I had to stop here ” (after- a long, bleared 
mark across the page) “ because Her 
Royal Highness the Princess Vivian 
honored me with Her Gracious Presence 
this morning (only for a little while, I am 
glad to say), and you know better than I 
can tell you that that meant nothing 
agreeable or soothing, for she always ex- 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


95 


asperates me into a quarrel. She and 
grandmamma were in an absorbing (?) dis- 
cussion about — about what ? Dress, of 
course. Oh! Ye lofty-minded females! 
There is to be some English swell at the 
reception to-morrow night, and Vivian 
must have a finger in the pie of flunkey- 
ism that our independent, equality-loving 
Americans are preparing. Just as if it 
made any difference anyway what she 
wore, or as if the earl would look at her 
at all. Since the engagement Ffairfax 
spoils her so she is worse than ever — 
almost unbearable, indeed. He says that 
she is to have everything she wants — 
Ffairfax is a fool, for Vivian doesn’t want 
him. I suppose, if you insist upon it, 
that sea air is what I want, but I think 
that I want to be back at home with some- 
body I love very much. One hour with 
you is worth a dozen seasons at Newport 
— at least this is the opinion of a tired, 
bored, sick boy. 

“ P. S. — I suppose to be just — as you 
say every one should be — I ought to tell 
you that Viv. is kind enough sometimes 
to read to me. I like it because— you 


96 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


wouldn’t believe it — her voice is very 
sweet when she isn’t saying disagreeable 
things.— R. T. C.” 

The “ tired, bored, sick boy ” had his 
wish gratified early in the fall. Mrs. 
Travers came to Ingleclyffe, bringing him 
with her. 

Her stay was brief, however, only long 
enough to overlook the premises previous 
to closing for the winter campaign in town. 

Miss Chenault was off with a party of 
friends to the Thousand Islands, and 
would join Mrs. Travers later in the city, 
so Raoul at least could congratulate him- 
self on being rid of her aggressive pres- 
ence, no matter how any one else might 
feel about it. 

“ Isn’t it nice, all to ourselves ?” he said 
more than once during the few days. 
“ Now, if Vivian were here it wonld spoil 
— but, pshaw! — you know Vivian.” 

Mrs. Travers’ mission was soon com- 
pleted, and the great house, save for the 
people in charge, was closed and deserted, 
and if a certain sense of loneliness fell 
upon Dr. Kent at the loss of the genial 
companionship of his two best friends—^ 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


97 


to say nothing of a keener, deeper loss yet 
— it was soon routed by the multitudinous 
cares and duties that thronged upon him. 

He was too sincere of purpose and far 
too much in earnest as to the real, practi- 
cal issues of life to waste time in useless 
regrets, but the very loyalty of his nature 
forbade any self-deception in regard to the 
love that held him in its irretrievable 
bondage. 

He might resolve that never again 
should it gain the mastery of him as it 
had done on that memorable June evening, 
when prudence had been flung to the 
winds and passion’s tidal wave had sub- 
merged reason and judgment, but he could 
neither ignore nor gainsay its influence. 

In the fleet, winter days that quickly 
followed autumn’s golden stretch there 
was little time for vain retrospection. His 
energy, activities and strength were taxed 
to their utmost by the demands upon 
them, and in sowing broadcast light and 
warmth into more than one needy, deso- 
late life he must perforce — if through re- 
flected radiance alone — catch a touch of 
brightness in his own. 


98 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


Although our highest happiness may 
ultimately be attained by an utter and 
ruthless demolition of selfhood, still it is 
none the less difficult to combat ruling 
loves and desires, hampered as we are by 
the bonds of materialism — hounded as we 
must ever be by the lusts of the world, 
the flesh and the devil. 

So with this poor son of humanity there 
were moments when the great and gracious 
gift of life itself seemed worthless without 
the fulfillment of life’s crowning sweet- 
ness and delight — moments when the 
light from one woman’s eyes, shining for 
him alone, would have outdazzled all other 
considerations whether of time or eternity. 

He had not been a fanciful man, either, 
but sometimes of late he was beset by the 
oddest fancies. Sometimes — it might be 
in the gray mist of the early dawn, as he 
took his homeward route after a night of 
unremitting vigil — the proud, peerless 
face would suddenly gleam forth from the 
shadows with strange and startling clear- 
ness, like a star out of the gloom. And 
again — perhaps amid his busiest, most 
hurried moments — the memory of this 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


99 


woman lie loved would be wafted to him, 
subtly as the fragrance of many flowers, 
overwhelming him with a curious blend- 
ing of exquisite pain and pleasure. 

And again — in the early, winter twi- 
light, that stole so quickly down these 
brief, busy days, coming ofttimes in a 
whirl of soft-falling snow — the world of 
reality would insensibly melt away, and a 
world of weird, daring, whimsical fancies, 
boldly invading his study, would in the 
uncertain glow of the firelight conjure up 
a phantasmagoria of strange, quaint, phan - 
tom pictures. There was one more obtru- 
sive than the rest — of a home, a sunny, 
happy home — that epitome of heaven — 
brightened by the faces of little children 
and glorified by the presence of a woman 
fair and beauteous, with a touch of divine 
radiance in the purple of her eyes and the 
gold of her hair. 

All absurd, fantastic, irrational, of 
course ; but it was strange how philosophi- 
cal resolutions and cold, prosaic facts 
skulked away and hid in the corners while 
these fitful, fugitive fancies held high 
carnival. 


lOO 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


One evening early in December, coming 
in cold, tired, somewhat despondent, from 
a driving snowstorm, Dr. Kent found upon 
his table among other mail matter a letter 
from Mrs. Travers, the first line from her 
for many weeks. It was not a long letter, 
but it absorbed his attention, to the exclu- 
sion of all else, for many minutes. 

“ My best friend,” it began, “ you will 
think me foolish, and perhaps I am, but 
you must not lose patience with me, for 
what am I to do — ^you have made yourself 
so essential — if I cannot come to you when 
I am in trouble ? And I am in trouble 
now; very serious trouble, too, I can as- 
sure you. It is not, however, about our 
dear boy Raoul, but — you will be sur- 
prised — about that perverse piece of hu- 
manity, Vivian. Perverse, I say, for she 
will not listen to reason and scouts the 
idea of anything whatever being the mat- 
ter. She ridicules my anxiety, and on 
several occasions has been really angry 
when I have suggested some little cessa- 
tion in the everlasting whirl of gaiety and 
dissipation that fashionable life demands. 

“ Ffairfax is not at all apprehensive, 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


lOI 


but he is hardly as keen sighted in this 
matter as I, who love them both .so well. 

“ At all events, I am very much wor- 
ried, and I don’t know of anything that 
will relieve my mind so much as a coufi- 
dential chat with you. 

“Now don’t imagine I mean by that 
this lame, straggling letter. No, decidedly 
no. I want to see and talk with you, and, 
above all, I want you to see Vivian. How 
can it be managed ? Is it not possible for 
you to take French leave of your Ingle- 
clyffe patients — if only for a day — for a 
short run into the city ? 

“ But just here let me say, if you value 
your life, Vivian must not know that I sent 
for you. She would resent such a course 
with all the foolish wilfulness of her na- 
ture. On the other hand, of course, you 
cannot be in the city, even on a brief 
business errand, without calling upon old 
friends. Comprenez vousf You can then 
see and judge for yourself, and perhaps 
set my mind at rest. I am writing hur- 
riedly and fear I may not have made my- 
self altogether intelligible. But you will 
understand the chief thing, and that is for 


102 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


you to come at your earliest convenience. 
I shall rely upon you.” 

Dr. Kent read the letter once — twice — 
three times, and then threw it aside with 
a gesture of impatience, ejacu'’ating : 

“ It is like a woman to write in such a 
strain, disconnected, unsatisfactory. Why 
couldnh she have given me some clue of 
what the trouble is? But,” musingly, 
after a pause, “ I believe I know. I have 
always feared it. That quick, vivid color 
is never a sure indication of health — and 
then hfcr mother ” 

He rose and walked to the window and 
gazed out at the fast falling snow driven 
here, there, everywhere in scurrying, 
whirling eddies — a plaything for the blus- 
tering gale. But it was not the fury of 
the storm, nor yet anything in the dismal 
village street that absorbed his attention. 
It was a picture from memory’s vista of a 
girl in pale, diaphanous draperies, up- 
reaching with perfect arms to break a 
cluster of purple blossoms, the June sun- 
light falling like a rain of gold through 
the vme leaves upon her — a picture that 
might have served as an impersonation of 


/ 


SIR SUPERIOR.. 103 

Hebe herself, so replete was it with health 
and youth and beauty. 

“ God bless her and keep her always, 
wherever it may be,” he murmured. 

The next instant his reflectious were 
cut short by the entrance of a tall young 
fellow who quickly made for the ruddy 
fire, as he vigorously shook the snow 
from his coat. 

“It will be a fearful night!” he ex- 
claimed. “ There is a regular blizzard 
brewing.” 

“Is there?” asked the doctor absently, 
turning toward the fire, “ I hadn’t thought 
of it.” 

“ ‘ Hadn’t thought of it?’ ” echoed the 
other, with an incredulous whistle. “ Why, 
you were looking directly through the 
window as I drove up. Didn’t you see 
me?” 

Dr. Kent’s only answer was a prolonged 
scrutinizing stare, as if he would take en- 
tire stock of the smiling young giant be- 
fore him. 

The figure was fine enough, six feet at 
least, with long, muscular limbs and fairly 
broad, straight shoulders, but the face was 


104 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


the face of a boy — fair, smooth, fresh- 
colored — with babyish rings of soft brown 
hair lying loosely about the white brow 
and no vestige of a mustache to dignify 
the sweet, effeminate mouth. 

“ I wish, Drayton, you were not quite 
so young, he said finally, when he had 
finished his inspection. ‘‘ It is a great 
drawback.” 

Drayton laughed. 

“ Yes, doubtless,” he said, “ but I wish 
I could overcome all of my drawbacks as 
easily and as surely as I can this one.” 

“ Do you think,” continued the doctor, 
pursuing his own train of thought, un- 
mindful of the rejoinder, “ that you could 
take entire charge here for a few days — a 
week perhaps ?” 

“ That is for you to decide,” the young 
assistant replied, unable, liowever, to re- 
press a flush of pleasure at the sugges- 
tion. “Would you be willing to trust 
me ? And what would the patients ?” 

“ Bother the patients ! We won’t con- 
sult them. There is nothing critical on 
hand just now, and I hardly think,” spec- 
ulatively, “ that you could blunder enough 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


105 


to kill any of them in the short time I 
will be absent.’^ 

You are going away, then ?” 

“ Yes, to the city for a few days. I shall 
start to-morrow morning, taking an early 
train. 


CHAPTER VII. 


The snowfall proved heavy, and the 
day following, when Dr Kent ascended 
the steps of Mrs. Travers’ handsome town 
house, the avenue was gay with dashing 
turnonts and the air merrily musical with 
the jingle of sleigh bells. 

He gave little heed to the brilliancy of 
the passing panorama, for his thoughts 
were busy in another and graver direction. 

He would scarcely have owned to him- 
self the anxiety he had suffered since the 
receipt of Mrs. Travers’ letter. He had 
read and reread it, and finally arrived at 
the illogical conclusion that nothing short 
of the most alarming apprehensions could 
have prompted such a step on her part. 
He would not have been surprised to have 
been met with a story of serious illness, 
although she had clearly intimated that 
to all save her own love-sharpened eyes 
Vivian was in her usual health, and had 
also hinted that the doctor himself might 


SIR SUPERIOR. 107 

consider her fears groundless and herself 
whimsical. 

His suspense was, however, summarily 
relieved, for before there was time for an 
answer to his ring a light, sweet laugh 
fell upon the crisp air, and he turned just 
in time to see Ffairax lift Miss Chenault 
from the gaily caparisoned cutter at the 
door. 

Neither of them had observed him. 

“ There, Fairfax, that will do,^’ she was 
saying. You need come no farther ; I 
know you have an appointment at your 
club, so au revoir until this evening. The 
sleighing was gorgeous,^’ and as the cutter 
dashed down the avenue she ran lightly 
up the steps and so came altogether un- 
awares upon the doctor. 

It is to be hoped that if the encounter 
had been less sudden Miss Chenault^s 
blank astonishment would have been tem- 
pered by a touch at least of the suavity 
that common comity and good breeding 
are generally supposed to demand. 

“ You !” she exclaimed. “ This is indeed 
an unexpected — honor.” (An honor not- 
withstanding that she did not deem neces- 


io8 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


sary to acknowledge by even so much as 
the touch of her finger tips). “ Grand- 
mamma will no doubt be delighted. Have 
you rung ? And now/’ turning upon him 
quickly as they advanced into the hall, 
with a keen suspicion of being laughed 
at, “ whatever do you find amusing?” 

Unconsciously to himself Dr. Kent was 
smiling, and a rather satirical smile it 
was, too, as he remembered his recent su- 
perfluous anxiety in behalf of Miss Che- 
nault, for at this moment, in her snow- 
flecked seals and sables, with the high 
color and liquid sparkle the wind had 
blown into cheeks and eyes, she was posi- 
tively dazzling — an impersonation, as it 
were, of superb health and vigor. 

Once in the drawing-room, however, the 
brilliant color vanished from her face 
almost as quickly as the snowflakes from 
her wraps, and even while he exchanged 
greetings with Mrs. Travers a sharp fit of 
coughing, that she strenuously endeavored 
to suppress, seized her. 

Mrs. Travers broke off abruptly in what 
she was saying, with a swift, significant, 
I-told-you-so glance at the doctor. 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


109 


There/’ Vivian,” she said, “ I knew 
sleighing would start that cough again, 
and you would not listen — just as it was 
better, too.” 

But Vivian, having recovered herself, 
laughed carelessly, and leaning across the 
back of her grandmother’s chair slipped 
her arms around her neck, and, stooping, 
with a pretty, endearing gesture, touched 
her lips caressingly to the white puffs and 
braids of the always elaborate coiffure. 
She often rallied Mrs. Travers upon her 
pride in her luxuriant hair. 

How very pretty your curls are to- 
day, grandmamma,” she now said. Marie 
must have -suspected that Dr. Kent was 
coming ; but,” smiling on him for the first 
time, “ you could never guess, doctor, what 
grandmamma’s latest absurdity is. She 
wants to pretend that I am delicate. I, 
who never was sick a day in my life. Am 

I not a rather healthy looking inval ?” 

but the sentence was cut short by a return 
of the cough and with such renewed vio- 
lence as to compel her to yield to its sway. 

“ How long have you coughed like 
that?” the doctor asked quickly and in 


no 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


so grave a tone that it was at once re- 
sented. 

“ I have not ^ coughed like that ^ at all,” 
she replied impatiently. “ I do cough,” 
with positive defiance. 

“And you have just given us indis- 
putable evidence to that effect,” he re- 
torted dryly. 

“ And you, I see, are quite as disagree- 
able as ever,” and then the subject was 
dropped, at least so long as Vivian was 
present. 

When she had gone Mrs. Travers took 
it up and plunged in medias res at once, 
besieging him with questions. 

“ Tell me, now that you have seen her, 
just what your opinion is? Is there any- 
thing serious, do you think ? And do you 
detect any change in her ? I have fancied 
she was growing thinner. Poor child, she 
does cough constantly, although, as you 
see, she is hardly conscious of it.” 

The doctor smiled at her earnestness. 

“ I can scarcely venture an opinion as 
yet. I don’t like the cough certainly ; 
it has an ugly sound ; but then, again, I 
have never seen Miss Chenault looking 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


Ill 


better, but, of course, I must have further 
opportunity before judging definitely.^’ 

If he entertained any more serious ap- 
prehensions he wisely kept his own coun- 
sel. It was needless, surely, to alarm 
Mrs. Travers about something that per- 
haps did not exist at all — an idea of his 
own that there was hardly as yet sufficient 
grounds to justify 

But often a woman’s swift intuition — 
springing from her affections — will en- 
lighten her as surely and as unerringly 
as a man’s profounder wisdom and erudi- 
tion, and the next moment Mrs. Travers 
surprised Dr. Kent by embodying in 
words his very thought. 

“ Consumption,” she said reflectively. 
“You know they said that her mother 
died with consumption, but it was not 
true. It was rather want, exposure, ill- 
treatment, anxiety that crushed the life 
out of her, for there is no hereditary pul- 
monary taint in our family. But,” with 
a shudder, “ there is that cross of foreign 
blood, and who can tell — who knows with 
what germs of disease it may be freighted ? 
Look at Raoul.” 


1 12 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


My dear friend/^ said the doctor, are 
you not borrowing trouble now, and won’t 
it be time enough to climb our mountains 
when we reach them 

But she was not to be cajoled out of her 
seriousness, and continued after a slight 
pause : 

If I could only induce her to take a 
little rest. It is that more than anything 
else that she needs. But,’’ with a sigh, 
I suppose it is not to be hoped for at 
present, for it is one restless, never-ending 
round. There, for instance, is that recep- 
tion to-morrow night, and quite an affair 
it is to be, if we may believe half we hear. 
By the way, Mrs. Walworth was inquiring 
most particularly after you. She would 
be more than pleased to have you, I know, 
and it is needless to say that your pres- 
ence would add to my enjoyment of the 
evening. These social functions are be- 
ginning to weary me inexpressibly.” 

“ And yet you would entice a friend?” 
laughed the doctor. No. Thanks for 
your kindness, but I hardly think I will 
swell the list of Mrs. Walworth’s guests. 
We get out of gear so readily for these 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


113 

things, I fear I should prove a veritable 
bete noir and shock society’s nerves.” 

Nevertheless, contrary to his own ex- 
pectations and much to the surprise and 
satisfaction of Mrs. Travers, he did put in 
an appearance the night following at the 
reception in question. 

“ How is it ?” asked Miss Chenault, 
with that brusquerie, trenching so closely 
upon rudeness that she seemed to reserve 
for his exclusive benefit, that you are 
here after all ? Grandmamma has been la- 
menting in sackcloth and ashes the whole 
day because you refused her kind offer.” 

“ I am sorry that Mrs. Travers should 
have suffered unduly on my account, 
but I—” 

“ But you said you would not come. 
There is a prevalent popular delusion 
extant I believe that the privilege of 
fickleness of purpose is monopolized by 
the fair sex.” 

Yes, and far be it from me to infringe 
such a time-honored privilege. I met a 
friend after leaving Mrs. Travers who was 
so insistent that, much as I desired, I could 
not escape.” 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


114 

“ A friend involuntarily, in genuine 
surprise. “ I didn’t know that you had 
any friends.” 

“ Indeed,” with a half smile. “ That is 
complimentary, at all events. Do you 
imagine, then, that I am altogether inca- 
pable of friendship?” 

“ Oh ! not at all,” carelessly. I beg your 
pardon,” beating a hasty retreat behind 
the beauteous barricade of some Marechal 
Niel roses she held, “ but you know you 
are so very different from every one else — 
so very independent and clever and self- 
reliant — so — so — ” suddenly for once 
breaking down in confusion before the 
intent scrutiny of the handsome, penetra- 
ting eyes. 

“ So ‘ superior,’ allow me to supply the 
word,” courteously, but with a faint intona- 
tion of sarcasm that filled her with guilty 
consciousness, “ that you supposed I could 
not affiliate with common clay.” 

“ Your discernment does you credit,” 
she laughed. “ But tell me,” wisely drop- 
ping a dangerous subject, “who the friend is 
who wields such powerful influence? Per- 
haps I have the honor of his acquaintance. ’> 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


115 

“ Perhaps,” quietly. But it is not 
‘ his ’ it is ‘ her.’ The friend is a lady.” 

A lady !” with another start of invol- 
untary surprise. “ Ah ! the plot thickens ; 
now yon do interest me, for the woman 
who could prevail upon you to come into 
this uncongenial crush must be a phe- 
nomenal creature indeed. Tell me some- 
thing — everything about her. She is 
young and fair and beautiful, of course ?” 

“ No, she is neither ‘ young ’ nor ^ fair ’ 
nor ‘ beautiful,’ ” and why this answer 
should have afforded Miss Chenault pecu- 
liar satisfaction and restored her some- 
what ruffled temper will require a more 
subtle divination than mine to fathom, 
“ but she is true and good and noble, and 
a friend of long standing. Her son — a 
newly fledged physician — I have recently 
taken as my assistant, and I called upon 
Mrs. Drayton to-day to give her the latest 
particulars in regard to her boy. Of 
course they worship him and think him 
extraordinary. He is in reality a very 
good sort of fellow. They overwhelmed 
me with questions.” 

“‘They?” impatiently. “Who are 


SIR SUPERIOR 


1 16 

‘ they ?’ Is there then a whole regiment 
of these Draytons ?” 

Unfortunately, no. There are but few 
of the Draytons left, only the mother, this 
son and a daughter.” 

“ Ah,” it was not an exclamation, 
scarcely a breath, but it was wonderfully 
significant. 

Miss Chenault now held the key to 
the whole affair. She understood the 
doctor’s visit to town — his young assist- 
ant — his presence here to-night — every- 
thing — it was all quite plain in this new 
light. 

“ It is strange,” she said reflectively, 
“ but I do not remember — I cannot recall 
any Miss Drayton.” 

“ Probably not. She was educated 
abroad and has but ‘recently made her 
entree into society. She is very young 
and ” 

“ And very pretty ?” 

“ Oh, I am not so sure about that. She 
is one of those people who are so very 
charming that one forgets the secondary 
consideration of mere beauty.” 

It was such an auspicious opportunity 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


117 


to pay off some old scores of long stand- 
ing that he could not let it slip. He was 
nevertheless wise enough to make it a part- 
ing shot. 


CHAPTER VIIL 


Not long after, however, Miss Chenanlt, 
finding Dr. Kent and Miss Drayton oppo- 
site in the dance, was enabled to judge 
freely and fully for herself, and decided at 
once that the girl was more than pretty. 

Hitherto she had given but slight con- 
sideration to the charms of other women. 
Pre-eminently beautiful herself, she had 
rested in proud, unassailable security, but 
to-night, watching Madge Drayton^s dim- 
pled, riante face, for the first time she be- 
gan to compare notes ; and, oddly enough, 
by some extraordinary reckoning of her 
own (for the girl was no beauty) , the bal- 
ance tipped in this recent rival’s favor. 

For some years Miss Chenault’s car 
had rolled along in triumphal fashion — 
so triumphal, indeed, that she had failed 
to note the inevitable milestones of time 
marking its way. Now, looking back- 
ward, the unwelcome array of silent yet 
relentlessly uncompromising sentinels as- 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


119 

serted themselves, and she realized, with 
a disagreeable shock, what a brief and 
ephemeral affair the sovereignty of youth 
and beauty must of necessity be. 

Was it possible that she was growing 
old? 

> She certainly did feel passe when she 
glanced at the girl opposite — in the first, 
unsullied flush of youth that suggested so 
irresistibly spring violets, pink May blos- 
soms, anything and everything, in short, 
but lately touched of heaven — and re- 
membered her own debut at seventeen. 

Five years ! What a stretch ! 

Five years — an eternity at seventeen ; 
and even at two-and-twenty much longer 
and more formidable than at twice twenty- 
and-two. 

Vivian sighed. 

She was gradually verging toward her 
first morbid mood, and the experience was 
not pleasant. 

Had she exercised the simple precau- 
tion of glancing into any one of the nu- 
merous mirrors about her she might have 
been altogether reassured, for as a matter 
of fact no woman in the room could ap- 


120 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


proximate to her in point of beauty. But 
she did nothing so pacific and consoling. 
On the contrary, under cover of an au- 
dacious flirtation with a new admirer, she 
continued to brood hysterically in a way 
that told effectually on both nerves and 
temper. 

Later, when Dr. Kent presented himself 
for the one dance accorded, a brilliant pic- 
ture forsooth confronted him, for although 
Vivian’s beauty was of an indisputably 
blonde type, there was something almost 
tropical in her coloring — the vivid purple 
and gold of eyes and hair, and the rich 
carmine of lip and cheek. 

The doctor’s practiced eye was not, 
however, in the least deceived, and he de- 
tected at once a spurious element beneath 
the dazzling exterior. 

“You are over-exerting yourself. You’ve 
danced too much already,” he said, de- 
cisively, with the privilege of his profes- 
sion and a fugitive thought of Mrs. Trav- 
ers’ anxiety. 

“ Thanks,” she replied. “ You are most 
considerate, but pardon me if I reserve the 
right to decide the matter for myself.” 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


I2I 


certainty, as you please, of course,” 
indifferently. “ Shall we take our places 
at once?” 

Do you realty care to dance?” curi- 
ously, for she had in fact thought he was 
merely trying to evade a disagreeable 
duty creditably. 

“ Yes, I rather like it,” suspecting her 
drift. “ You know it is a taste I seldom 
have the opportunity of indulging, and 
the very novelty renders it attractive.” 

Then we will not dance,” coolly, rising 
and putting her hand on his arm. I 
thought it would annoy you. Come, take 
me away; I am indeed tired and the rooms 
are stifling — no, not to the conservatory. 
There is a cosy corner more retired, some- 
where at the end of one of these halls. I 
will pilot the way. Come. Oh, how de- 
lightful,” a moment later. And ere he 
was aware of it she had come to a sudden 
halt in one of the corridors through which 
their route lay, and was gazing upward 
through a quaint high window, partly 
open, at a cold, white moon and glittering 
myriads of stars. 

The frosty breath of the winter night 


122 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


cut like a sword of ice through the warm, 
odorous atmosphere within 

“ For heaven’s sake, don’t be so reck- 
lessly imprudent. Miss Chenault. Don’t 
stop a moment, I beg of you. Why, don’t 
you know, overheated as you are, that this 
cold draught is death itself?” 

The situation — at least in Vivian’s esti- 
mation — scarcely justified such vehe- 
mence. She laughed with face still up- 
turned to the moon : 

‘‘ Can’t you leave ‘ shop ’ out of it a little 
while ? ‘ Death,’ indeed ! It is altogether 
delightful and refreshing after the heat of 
those rooms. In all of — Oh, don’t drag 
so, I am coming now — In all your wide 
philosophy. Dr. Kent,” as they moved on, 
“ can you explain why the pleasantest 
things of life are always those that are 
forbidden — unwise — not to say downright 
wicked ?” 

“ In my ‘ philosophy ’ such is not the 
case. Quite the reverse. The pleasantest 

things in life are those which ” 

“ Spare me,” she interrupted imperi- 
ously, as, arrived at their destination, she 
sunk into the luxurious depths of a great 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


123 


crimson cHair. “ I will not listen to any 
Sunday school pap to-night. I’m in no 
mood for it. I’m tired of humbuggery.” 
“I have no desire to humbug. You 

asked a question and I ” 

“ Oh, yes, you have ; for you know, I 
know, everybody knows, that the way to 
heaven is ‘ steep and thorny ’ — that all of 
the allurements are on the devil’s side — 
that it is, in short, the most difficult thing 
to do what is right and the easiest, most 
delightful thing to do what is not right. 
Ah ! — ” breaking off suddenly, as a con- 
vulsive shiver ran through her frame. 

There, I told you. ‘ Shop ’ or no 
‘ shop,’ you are already reaping the benefit 
of your imprudence. You are chilled. 
Shall I fetch a wrap ?” 

“ No, no. It isn’t that. I’m not in the 
least cold,” yet shivering again. “ Some 
one is walking over my grave. That is 
all. Have you forgotten the old supersti- 
tion ?” smiling up at him. 

. ‘‘ Your grave?” looking down, curiously 

intent. “ Does the thought of it ever 
trouble you. Miss Chenault?” 

“ Assuredly, yes. How should it not 


124 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


trouble me? I wish I knew — it is the 
only thing that does trouble me.’^ 

“ Pardon me, then, for dwelling upon 
the subject. We will forget it,^’ lightly. 

“ But one cannot forget it,^’ to his sur- 
prise suddenly serious. “ The grim, re- 
lentless, inevitable fact of death thrusts 
itself so persistently forward that it is not 
to be forgotten nor ignored. It is every- 
where in evidence, facing us at every turn. 
And it is simply horrible,’^ shuddering, 
to know that all life, love, happiness, 
everything, must end like that- — to know 
this beyond a doubt, and to know nothing 
further.^’ 

“ But we do know a great deal further. 
Death is the end of nothing that is good ; 
it is the beginning of all that is best — an 
orderly event in the evolution of life — a 
mere ttansition to a higher plane of exist- 
ence. It would be as foolish to regret the 
May blossoms as they drift downward to 
make way for fuller fruition as to regret 
the casting aside of this physical body 
when it has served its short-lived purpose 
here.^’ 

“ I have heard all that before. Its age, 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


125 


at all events, commands reverence and re- 
spect, and it is plausible, but unfortunately 
it fails to convince. It asserts, but it does 
not prove. I see death around me every 
day, but never yet have I seen resurrec- 
tion. Death is an assured fact ; all else,” 
with an inimitable shrug, “ is mere fic- 
tion.” 

“ Such heresies shock me. Miss Che- 
nault, emanating from you,” he laughed. 
“ I supposed you were decorously, de- 
voutly othrodox. For I know that you are 
a member of a high, unimpeachable, ortho- 
dox church, with “a high, unimpeachable, 
orthodox creed that professes faith in 
‘ Father, Son and Holy Ghost,’ and pro- 
vides a very good heaven for all saints and 
a very bad hell for all sinners.” 

She gave him a sharp glance as if to 
detect any touch of irony in his words^ 
and then she said quickly : 

It is all sham aud nonsense, and yoii 
know it better than anyone else. Nobody 
believes anything,” with a comprehensive 
wave of her hands as if including the uni- 
verse. 

“ That is a sweeping assertion certainly, 


126 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


but none too sweeping, I fear, if it means 
that very few of us have a sincere, abiding, 
vivifying faith in the immortality of the 
soul and a substantial life hereafter. The 
very horror with which death is regarded 
is conclusive evidence that we have not. 
For if we really believe that we shall live 
again — ^a higher, better, happier life — 
why should we shrink ” 

“Do you believe it?” she interrupted 
quickly. 

“ Most emphatically I do.” 

“ Then we may presume,” disdainfully 
skeptical, “ that Dr. Kent is not disturbed 
by the common fear of the common foe ; 
that, on the contrary, he rather courts 
Death’s icy embrace as something alto- 
gether delightful and desirable?” 

“ He certainly does not dread it. No, 
Miss Chenault, if I have a fear it is not 
of dying, but of the way I am living. For 
it is the everlasting, irrec-aimable struc- 
ture that we are rearing day by day — 
whether for good or ill — with our practical 
lives, that must determine eventually our 
happiness and well-being to all eternity.” 

“ There you go again,” impatiently. 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


127 


“ making everything difficult, disagree- 
able, unattainable, and yet offering noth- 
ing that reconciles the fact of death. Why 
should we die at all ? The world is so 
beautiful, so fair and gracious — full of 
sunlight and sweetness. Why should we 
be compelled to leave it ? This life is all 
sufficient for me. I want nothing better.^’ 

“ That is because, as yet, you have 
needed nothing better — because you are 
young and your life has been peculiarly 
blessed and beautiful and shielded — your 
experience limited. But in the nature of 
things this cannot last forever. And a 
time may come when all your heart and 
soul will cry out for something different — 
when you will feel that uuless there really 
be something incomparably brighter and 
better beyond that the gift of life itself is 
a curse rather than a blessing.” 

“ Never. But I perceive at all events,” 
with covert sarcasm, “ that you have mis- 
taken your vocation. You should have 
been a D.D. instead of an M.D. — not a 
mere healer of bodies, but a saver of souls. 
You have spoiled a brilliant career. Dr. 
Kent.” 


128 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


It would seem not,” lie retorted lacon- 
ically, “ if I met with no better success 
than I have in the present instance. Evi- 
dently I have neither convinced nor con- 
verted.” 

“ No, but you might do both if you 
could satisfactorily substantiate your as- 
sertions. For, seriously, I would only be 
too glad to find something rational, tan- 
gible, reliable — something, I mean, that 
appealed more strongly to reason than to 
faith.” 

“You are a true daughter of this prac- 
tical nineteenth century that is a veritable 
Thomas, doubting all things, accepting 
nothing upon trust. It must see and 
know, touch and handle, before it can 
believe. If, however, I bring you a 
book will you pledge yourself to read 
it ?” 

“ That depends. What is the book ? 
Perhaps I have read it already ?” 

“ No, I am sure you haven’t, for it would 
have subdued your skepticism long since. 
It is clear, simple and rational, and recon- 
ciles much that we are apt to find other- 
wise irreconcilable.” 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


129 


A wonderful book truly/^ with scorn- 
ful increduity. 

“ Yes, the most wonderful of modern 
times. It is one of Emanuel Sweden- 
borg^s works — ^ The True Christian Re- 
ligion ’ ” 

“ At last I have found you,’^ and Ffair- 
fax Travers’ voice was fraught with both 
anger and impatience as he advanced 
toward them. “What do you mean, Vivian, 
by making yourself conspicuous, not to 
say ridiculous, after this unprecedented 
fashion ?” 

She raised her eyes in cold surprise at 
this first attempt on the part of her lover 
at an assumption of authority, and meas- 
ured him with one swift glance of disap- 
proval. 

“ You are giving yourself unnecessary 
annoyance,” she said indifferently. “ I 
have always, I believe, been conspicuous. 
As for the rest,” with a slight, exasper- 
ating smile, “it is you who are making 
yourself ridiculous, Ffairfax. As if it 
were a matter of any consequence whether 
I am here or in the ballroom.” 

“It is a matter of sufficient consequence,” 


130 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


he retorted angrily, “ to have occasioned 
comment. You don’t realize, perhaps, 
how long you have been absent. No less 
than half a dozen people have inquired 
for you, and the waltz for which I am 
booked is already well under way.” 

Oh, that is the grievance ?” She 
laughed lightly, rising quickly. “Come,” 
with an affectation of haste, “ it shall be 
rectified at once?” 

“ It is hardly advisable for you to dance 
again this evening. Miss Chenault,” sud- 
denly interposed the doctor, emerging from 
the subordination into which Ffairfax’s 
advent had thrown him. “ Remember, 
you have overexerted yourself already.” 

“ That is all in your imagination, doc- 
tor. I rather suspect,” shrewdly, “ that 
grandmamma has been coaching you. I 
never felt better in my life ; and as for 
dancing, I’m just in the mood for it after 
all of that sermonizing.” 

“Yes,” said Ffairfax coldly, drawing 
her arm through his, impatient of further 
delay, “ if Miss Chenault had preferred a 
quiet tete-a-tete evening she would prob- 
ably have remained at home.” 


SIR SUPERIOR. 131 

And with that they passed on. 

“ Two simpletons,” ejaculated the doc- 
tor, staring after them, “ who will hear 
no r/eason. And I — I,” with an inflection 
of bitterness and contempt, “I am a greater 
simpleton yet.” 

Vivian shivered a second time as she 
passed the open window and the fresh 
night air swept in upon her. 

“You are cold ?” said Ffairfax. 

“ Yes, and dancing will warm me. How 
absurd to imagine it could possibly hurt 
me. Dr. Kent i§ altogether too officious.” 

“ He is altogether disagreeable,” re- 
sponded Ffairfax. “ He forgets that we 
are not all, like Raoul, under his personal 
supervision. See, we are in time, the 
waltz is not half finished. Come,” slip- 
ping his arm about her as they join the 
dancers. 

But they had scarcely compassed the 
circuit of the room when she came to an 
abrupt halt and said quickly: 

“ Stop, there is something the matter — 
something here, in my throat — I can- 
not ” 

Further utterance was checked by a 


132 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


cough, a slight cough apparently, but a 
moment later the handkerchief she had 
pressed to her lips bore a bright, red stain. 

“My God! Ffairfax, only look — 
blood 1’^ 

She had paled from sheer fright, and he 
felt her fingers tighten on his arm. He 
himself was horror-stricken, for the blood 
still flowed from her lips. It was all the 
work of an instant, attracting little or no 
attention, the dancers still whirling gayly 
about them as he drew her aside. 

One person, however — who from his 
standpoint near the door must have been 
watching this special couple — advanced 
rapidly to meet them, and in a voice fierce 
in its intensity of command, said briefly : 

“ Give her to me.” And now no one 
resented his interference as officious nor 
questioned his right of authority. 

Indeed, Vivian, who was shivering with 
nervousness and fright, almost clung to 
the arm extended, while Ffairfax, dis- 
mayed at the white, scared face and blood- 
stained lips, seemed utterly helpless and 
beside himself. 

“ What can I do?” he asked piteously. 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


33 


“ Surely something can be done — must be 
done.” 

I will attend to Miss Chenault,” re- 
plied the doctor quietly. “ The most 
available thing is to get her home as soon 
as possible. Find Mrs. Travers and call 
the carriage at once,” and it seemed to 
Vivian that she was lifted and borne along 
rather than led through the hall to the 
library. 

There, you are more comfortable now,” 
depositing her upon a divan. “ Are you 
cold, that yon shiver so?” stooping and 
chafing the icy fingers. “ But do not try 
to talk, it is ” 

“ ^ Cold,’ ” she repeated, snatching away 
her hands and pressing them to her tem- 
ples. “ I am dying. Can’t yon see that? 
It is horrible, horrible — the blood — it will 
choke me. Why don’t you stop it? You 
who call yourself a doctor and pretend to 
be so wise. Oh ! grandmamma,” break- 
ing into a convulsive sob, and throwing 
herself into Mrs. Travers’ outstretched 
arms as she entered the room, “ I am 
dying.” 


CHAPTER IX. 


“ ‘ If it were done when ’tis done, then 
hwere well it were done quickly’ — Say 
it now, at once, and have it over with, and 
Vivian sunk back amid numerous pillows, 
with closed eyes and an air of mock resig- 
nation. 

Dr. Kent descried at a glance — and not 
without relief — that her nervous dread and 
hysterical fears of the night previous had 
vanished with the darkness, and that the 
morning light had at least restored a dash 
of her characteristic audacity. 

“ What is it I am expected to say ?” he 
asked, humoring her light mood as he 
advanced to the bedside, but under cover 
of the levity taking a rapid, comprehen- 
sive invoice of every symptom — good, bad, 
indifferent. “ That 3^our favorable condi- 
tion this morning is a pleasant surprise, 
and you are much better than I hoped to 
find you?” 

“You know very well what I mean,” 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


35 


impatiently, but with a furtive, question- 
ing glance into the noncommittal gray 
eyes as he consulted her pulse. ‘‘ The 
lecture — the inevitable, disagreeable, I- 
told-you-so lecture that is in store for me.” 

He smiled. 

“It is hardly worth while to waste 
breath in that fashion now. It is more to 
the purpose to point out future dangers 
and disasters that may befall perverse 
people who will not listen to reason and 
insist upon having their own way. P'or 
instance, you are talking altogether too 
much. It is necessary that you should 
keep quiet.” 

“ How exceedingly magnanimous and 
forbearing, to be sure. You will not heap 
coals of retributive fire upon my poor, 
stricken, guilty head by upbraiding me for 
being heedless and headstrong in the face 
of wise counsel. You will only gener- 
ously remind me of the misery yet in 
store for me — the trouble and tribulation 
and pitfalls ahead. Thanks. It is aston- 
ishing how excessively kind and consoling 
you clever, sagacious, infallible mortals 
can be.” 


36 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


“ And yet/^ succinctly, you don’t seem 
inclined even now to profit by any clever, 
infallible sagacity. You persist in disre- 
garding all warning. You continue to 
talk as if you hadn’t been told that it is 
the one thing you should not do.” 

“ But, seriously, doctor, I don’t feel ill 
in the least, only a little sore here,” touch- 
ing her chest, “ and have no intention of 
being entered upon the sick list. It was 
merely to please grandmamma and Ffair- 
fax and in deference to the professional 
visit with which I was to be honored that I 
kept my room this morning. Why, I tell 
you ” 

“ Tell me nothing,” he interrupted, in a 
tone so emphatic that she felt as if she had 
encountered an iron wall, “ I have said 
that quiet is absolutely essential, and I 
shall see that the observance is enforced. 
Do you want to provoke another hemor- 
rhage?” 

‘ Another hemorrhage ?’ ” looking up 
quickly, a touch of the first frantic fear in 
her eyes. “ It isn’t possible I am ever to 
expect another ? Why, the very dread of 
it would kill me, I couldn’t endure it at 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


137 


all. Tell me that it is not?’Mnsistently, 
appealingly. “ Ah ! you saw — you knew 
that it was coming,” as with a slight 
paroxysm of coughing, the blood gurgled 
up' in her throat and stained her lips. 
“ Save me ! save me !” she cried hysteri- 
cally, clutching his arm, the abject terror 
again upon her. “ Surely you can do 
something.” 

“ I should prefer death at once to this 
perpetual torture,” she said later, when 
the flow of blood had been checked and 
the fit of hysteria quelled, “ for I shall 
never know a minute^s peace, menaced 
forever by this fell fear.” 

“ This is nonsense, absolutely,” he re- 
assured her, “ I told you as much last 
night. You act as if a hemorrhage were 
the direst calamity that could befall one, 
when ” 

What could possibly be worse, kindly 
tell me, will you ?” 

When, in fact,” ignoring the interrup- 
tion, “ it is nothing of the kind. While 
always serious, a hemorrhage is not neces- 
sarily fatal or even indicative of incurable 
trouble. And in your case, as far as I can 


38 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


see, there is no immediate occasion for 
alarm ” 

“ You mean that my lungs are not 
affected — that the hemorrhage doesnh pro- 
ceed from any defection there ?” she ques- 
tioned eagerly. 

“ I didn’t say that, and to what extent 
your lungs are involved I am not prepared 
to say, until I make a thorough examina- 
tion of them.” 

‘‘ Make it at once, then,” imperiously, 
sitting bolt upright, “ this very minute. 
For I must know ; this suspense itself 
will kill me. Souud my lungs now.” 

“That is impossible,” imperturbably. 
“ I could tell nothing whatever about the 
normal state of your lungs with all that 
blood rattling about in your chest. We 
must wait until you regain your equi- 
librium and recover your usual tone and 
temperature. An examination now would 
be not only useless, but would induce 
further irritation as well.” 

“ How exasperatingly perfect you are 
with your reasonable reason for every- 
thing. I wonder when you kill any one 
outright if you console the stricken friends 


SIR SUPERIOR. 139 

of the ^ dear departed ’ with a schedule of 
all the -technical pros and cons of the 
case ?” 

The doctor smiled, but Vivian sunk 
back wearily with closed eyes, betraying 
for the first time that she felt the neces- 
sity for the quiet he had prescribed. 

“ I am so tired I will try to sleep. 
There isnh,” with a final faint attempt at 
raillery, “ any professional ukase forbid- 
ding that, I believe? Good-by, now,” ex- 
tending her hand, and don’t forget to 
leave imperative orders that I am not to 
be disturbed by -any one — Ffairfax, you 
know — or any one else. And prohibit 
most positively all nonsense — fruit and 
flowers and bon-bons. I will not be 
annoyed.” 

She turned her head hastily aside then, 
not so hastily, however, but that he 
detected beneath the long, sweeping lashes 
the glitter of the tear drops she was vainly 
trying to conceal. 

Whether it was owing to superior skill 
on the part of Dr. Kent or to mere will 
power on Vivian’s part, or to the fact that 


140 SIR SUPERIOR. 

her attack was in reality a trivial one, or 
to all three combined, this chronicle re- 
cordeth not. But at all events, within a 
week the doctor had returned to his pro- 
vincial patients and Miss Chenanlt was 
np again much her usual self, pursuing 
her usual occupations and pastimes in the 
usual way. 

The remembrance of her brief illness 
was as the remembrance of a nightmare. 
She shuddered if she allowed herself to 
reflect upon it. But she would not allow 
herself to reflect upon it. Sh'e put it from 
her as something too terrible to dwell 
upon, and which was not likely to happen 
twice in a life-time. 

If she felt any debilitating effects from 
it she would not so much as admit it to 
herself. She scoffed at the idea of any 
serious ailment, and although she coughed 
(a slight, dry, incessant cough) she re- 
sented fiercely any allusion to it. As to 
the ever present soreness and pain in her 
chest, she stubbornly ignored it. There 
was a constant effort on her part to im- 
press every one that she was perfectly 
sound and well. 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


141 

Nevertheless, she did not succeed in 
alleviating anxiety to any great extent. 

Mrs. Travers watched her closely in a 
dumb, pathetic, dog-like way and winced 
perceptibly at the sound of the cough. 

Raoul, with characteristic spleen, gave 
her to fully understand that he freely 
shared with her the honors and perquisites 
of invalidism. He had always been secretly 
envious of his sister’s vigorous health and 
splendid physique. 

Ffairfax fretted over the matter inwardly 
not a little, and was outwardly bold enough 
to remonstrate with her, and finally won 
her consent to consult a prominent phy- 
sician. 

The physician was mightily pleased with 
his handsome young patient, who in turn, 
however, was not at all pleased with the 
pompous grandiloquence of the eminent 
practitioner. She voted him a bore and 
had no faith whatever in his prescriptions, 
in spite of his brilliant reputation and 
high-flown, technical phraseology. 

The physician — with an eye, perhaps, 
to the long fee he saw in the distance — 
found Miss Chenault’s case a most inter- 


142 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


esting, complicated and critical one. She 
required constant care and attention — 
she required rest — she required change 
— she required, in short, anything and 
everything that was expensive and lux- 
urious. 

Finally, after one of his visits, Vivian — 
to the surprise and consternation of Ffair- 
fax and Mrs. Travers — expressed her opin- 
ion in no complimentary terms, and flatly 
declared she would never again receive 
the great specialist. 


CHAPTER X. 


Not a great while after Dr Kent, enter- 
ing his office one evening, found Ffairfax 
Travers awaiting him. 

You are surprised, no doubt,” laughed 
the visitor, rising and extending his hand, 
‘‘ to see me here. But,” in an easy, con- 
fidential, ingratiating tone, “ you can per- 
haps guess at once the cause of my pres- 
ence.” 

“-Yes,” replied the doctor concisely, 
slowly drawing off his gloves, “ I think I 
can. Miss Chenault?” 

“ Exactly; it is on her account.” 

“ I trust she is no worse — that there has 
been no further trouble from hemorrhage? 
Pray be seated,” slipping into his own 
chair at the desk and fingering a paper 
knife nervously, it might have been 
thought, had he been a nervous man. 

“ No, hardly as bad as that, I am glad 
to say. But the truth is she is far from 
wellf She has never quite recovered her 


44 


SIR SUPERIOR 


usual tone since the first attack, though 
she will not admit it.^’ 

“ I can well believe that. Perversity is 
the worst feature of Miss Chenault’s case. 
She will do nothing to help herself — use 
no precaution whatever.” 

“ That is quite true, but it is also true 
that something must be done. You realize 
that it is a serious matter?” 

“ Hemorrhages are always serious. It 
is futile to attempt to deceive you on that 
score. But I am inclined to believe that 
both you and Mrs. Travers are more ap- 
prehensive than the case warrants. So 
far as I have been able to judge — and I 
understand it as well as any man can 
— there is no deep-seated, organic trou- 
ble, nothing that may not with proper 
treatment and precaution be averted, if not 
altogether relieved. Indeed,” impatiently 
tossing the knife aside, “ the whole thing 
might have been averted if — but it is use- 
less to prate over what might have been.” 

Ffairfax eyed him curiously and with 
surprise. 

Am I to understand,” he asked, ^^that 
you apprehended anything of this sort 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


145 


previously — that there was any indication 
in Miss Chenault^s appearance to warn one 
of the unfortunate result we have recently 
witnessed ?” 

“ Yes, to a practiced eye there was every 
indication. I knew when I first saw Miss 
Chenault, for all her apparently vigorous 
health — that there was tendency to lung 
trouble, that she was of a hemorrhagic 
temperament, and that it was advisable, 
to say the least of it, to be very careful.’^ 
You did,” exclaimed Ffairfax, with 
angry resentment, “ and never said as 
much ? That was“kind, at all events.” 

“ If I had said as much — and more,” 
reaching for the knife again and perfunc- 
torily balancing it on his finger, “ it would 
have been resented as meddlesome, undue 
officiousness on my part. I was clearly 
given to understand that, as you can bear 
witness, on the few occasions that I did 
presume to remonstrate. So there was 
nothing for it but to hold my peace and 
let matters shape themselves. Of course, 
there was always the chance that they 
might never culminate as anticipated.” 

“ You were right, quite right,” assented 


146 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


Ffairfax, quickly curbing bis temper. He^ 
had suddenly remembered that it was by 
no means his policy to offend Dr. Kent. 

It would perhaps have done no good, for 
Miss Chenault ts headstrong.” 

“ Yes, headstrong ; and indulged in her 
wilfulness out of all reason.” 

“ Perhaps,” smiling, “ and any cure in 
that direction is, I fear, beyond the reach 
of the most skillful physician. As to this 
other and more formidable malady,” with 
renewed gravity, “what do you think of a 
change of climate and environment?” 

“ Oh, it isn’t a bad idea ; indeed, it might 
prove most beneficial.” 

“ Dr. Verbose thinks as much — in fact, 
he has ordered it as necessary.” 

“ You have consulted Dr. Verbose, then, 
and what is his opinion?” with evident 
interest. Dr. Verbose being one of the 
bright and shining lights of the medical 
fraternity. 

“He seems to regard the case more 
seriously than you do. He says that Miss 
Chenault’s condition is a most critical one 
and that a trip somewhere is impera- 
tive.” 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


H7 


Yes. And Miss Chenault, what 
does ” 

“ Miss Chenault is exasperating, as 
usual. She doesn’t care a rap for the 
great gun and his opinions, and as good 
as told him so.” 

“ But the change to a milder climate, 
does she favor that ?” 

“ Yes and no,” paradoxically. ‘‘ She 
admits that it might benefit her very 
much, and that the prospect is tempting, 
but at the same time she refuses point 
blank to go.” 

“ Odd.” 

Yes, and odder still, her reason. You 
could never guess, now, what that reason 
is ?” smiling tentatively. 

“ I suppose not. It is a rather hazard- 
ous business guessing at Miss Chenault’s 
reasons, for they are generally not reasons 
at all, but prejudices, whims, caprices, 
what you will.” 

“You could never guess this one at all 
events.” 

“ I shan’t try.” 

“It is because — because she won’t leave 
you.” 


148 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


Because — what?’^ jumping as if He 
had been shot, the knife snapping in two 
distinct pieces as it fell to the desk. 

“ I don’t wonder you are astounded. 
We all were. But when you come to look 
at it from her standpoint it is not so 
strange and astonishing after all. In fact, 
it seems perfectly natural and fitting.” 

“ I don’t comprehend,” murmured the 
doctor vaguely, feeling quite as bewildered 
as he looked. 

“ Oh, it is easily explained,” continued 
Ffairfax, with his most plausible manner. 
‘‘You see the return of these hemorrhages 
has come to be the dread of Miss Che- 
nault’s life, and you are the only person 
she has any confidence in regarding them. 
She thinks you understand the case thor- 
oughly and could stop this confounded 
blood when no one else could. She argues, 
therefore, that it is as much as her life is 
worth to get beyond your immediate care 
and treatment. Consequently, she prefers 
to take the risks of the winter at home, 
within your reach, to all the inducements 
a more favorable environment can offer. 
And perhaps she is right.” 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


149 


Dr. Kent had risen and was slowly 
pacing the room. 

“ Miss Chenault does me great honor/’ 
he said, after a few moments’ silence, 
and, believe me, while it is an honor I 
appreciate fully, truth compels me to say 
that she exaggerates both the gravity of 
the situation and my ability as a physi- 
cian. She incurs no risk in leaving home. 
The trip will be to her advantage ; a milder 
climate will undoubtedly agree with her; 
and, rest assured, that in any contingency 
that may arise there will always be com- 
petent physicians at hand.” 

That is just it. She doesn’t want any 
other physician. You don’t know her at 
all. We have reasoned with her all to no 
purpose. ^ What would you have me do ?’ 
she exclaimed indignantly only yesterday. 
‘ Put myself beyond the reach of help and 
relief in case of one of those terrible 
hemorrhages ? — and Dr. Kent says I may 
expect one any time. Go where I might 
die fifty times over before he could ever 
get to me ? Yes, certainly there are other 
doctors — quacks, mountebanks, perhaps — 
what do I know of them or they of me ? I 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


150 

would sooner have none at all.^ That is 
the way, you see, that she puts it,^’ sighed 
Ffairfax dejectedly. ‘‘ It is useless to try 
to reason her into measures. Aunt and I 
are very much worried over the matter. 
We have discussed it at length, and we 
can see but one w^ay out of it,” pausing 
and regarding the doctor intently, as if he 
were trying to penetrate the calm, conser- 
vative exterior. 

“Oh, you have found a way, then?” 
with a breath of relief. 

“ Yes, quite an easy and available way 
if ” 

“ If what ?” 

“ If you are amenable.” 

“ I ? Why, I have got nothing what- 
ever to do with it.” 

“ Oh, yes. The way is that you make 
the trip with them,” taking the plunge 
without more ado that he had so insidiously 
been leading up to. 

The doctor, who had continued to pace 
the room, stopped short now and stared 
down aghast at the man before him. 

“ Pardon me,” he said, “ but it strikes 
me as if you had — one and all — taken 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


151 

leave of your senses — were, in fact, de- 
mented.” 

“ Hardly so bad as that,” Ffairfax re- 
plied, smiling partly at the doctor’s blank 
astonishment and dismay, partly at his 
own redef at having declared his true 
colors The chief motive of his visit 
divulged he could pursue the subject at 
his ease, and bring to bear upon it that 
dogged persistency that had so often aided 
him through life — the persistency that had 
been the prime secret of more than one 
brilliant success — the persistency that had 
under repeated refusals and rebuffs finally 
won Vivian Chenault’s consent to become 
his wife. 

“ I am sorry you take that view of it,” 
he continued lightly, “ because,” ingratia- 
tingly, “ it is not at all the proper view to 
take. You are dead wrong. It is not by 
any means a mad and preposterous idea. 
It is altogether rational and feasible. Why 
shouldn’t you — a man who has worked as 
faithfully and conscientiously for so long 
a time — indulge in a holiday of a few 
weeks ?” (Ffairfax knew it was far more 
likely to prove months, but under the cir- 


152 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


CLimstances considered weeks’^ more 
plausible and expedient.) You see I 
could drum up a dozen good reasons why 
you should go ; whereas, I doubt if you 
can muster a single one as to why you 
should not go.” 

“ I was hardly thinking of these minor 
details,” said the doctor meditatively. 
“ You surprised me very much, that is all. 
It seems such a singular and startling 
proposition.” 

“ Then you don’t veto it outright ?” ex- 
claimed Ffairfax, eagerly clutching at any- 
thing that was not a point blank refusal. 

“ I consider it altogether impracticable. 
Indeed, I’m not sure that I quite under- 
stand your plan ?” 

“ Oh, it’s the simplest thing imaginable 
— scarcely a ^ plan ’ at all. It is just this: 
For Aunt Travers, Raoul, Miss Chenault 
and yourself — you see it is altogether im- 
possible for me to leave at present — to 
take a little pleasure trip. If it agrees 
with her, well and good — if not, there’s 
no harm done, for it cannot injure her.” 

‘‘ And Miss Chenaalt ? Does she ap- 
prove — does she know ?” 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


153 


“Of this proposition to you? Oh, no, 
nothing whatever. That is a clever little 
scheme of my own to surprise her pleas- 
antly. I am sure she will be delighted, 
for she is really most anxious to make the 
experiment. She wouldn’t admit it at 
first, but it is easy to see now that she is 
very much troubled about the condition of 
her health. She is worrying herself into 
an almost morbid state, and that, of course, 
is not good for her. But you have given 
me no satisfaction in the matter. You 
haven’t said positively that you would go.” 

He had intimated almost positively that 
he would not go. 

“ You understand, of course,” proceeded 
Ffairfax glibly, dexterously holding the 
floor and thereby quashing impending de- 
feat, “ that — it is a delicate matter between 
friends, I know — that in a pecuniary sense 
it shall be to your advantage to accept the 
proposition. Never let a thought of that 
disturb or deter you. Money is no con- 
sideration whatever, either to Mrs. Travers 
or myself, where Miss Chenault’s welfare 
and pleasure are concerned.” 

“ I hadn’t thought of that at all,” said 


154 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


the doctor briefly and truly, “ for it is 
never an all important consideration to 
me.” 

That is where you are unwise,” ob- 
served Ffairfax. “ But, in any event, we 
will not quarrel about it. Perhaps you are 
hesitating about your practice here, but 
what of that ? A man of your attain- 
ments and popularity can afford to snap 
his fingers at such. Or, even if you are 
qualmish, it can safely be turned over to 
Dr. Drayton for a short while. By the 
way, I hear through Miss Chenault that 
he is quite a promising young sprig. It 
is a recent fad of hers to patronize his 
sister ” 

“ Oh, yes, he does fairly well,” impa- 
tiently. But you are settling matters in 
a rather rapid, one-sided fashion,” and the 
voice was so strained and repellant that 
Ffairfax Travers feared suddenly that his 
facile, specious logic had been in vain. 
“ There are considerations that you can- 
not possibly understand, and, as I have 
previously said, the whole scheme is un- 
sound and impracticable.” 

“ I cannot admit that at all,” responded 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


*55 


Ffairfax, really somewhat taken aback, 
but resolved to keep up a brave front and 
betray no sign of defeat. “ There is cer- 
tainly one consideration,” playing a trump 
card, “ that you seem to lose sight of al- 
together.” 

“ Yes ?” interrogatively. 

I mean the warm, personal relations 
that have existed from the first between 
yourself and our family. Mrs. Travers 
has been one of your best and staunchest 
friends and advocates. And now, when a 
great trouble menances her and she ap- 
peals to you — not as a stranger — not pro- 
fessionally — but as a friend, shall the ap- 
peal be in vain ? As to myself, of course 
— although she is my promised wife — ” a 
sudden, unconscious, irrepressible vibra- 
tion of tenderness in his voice, “ you can- 
not understand all Miss Chenault is to 
me — what her health and happiness sig- 
nify, and, in short, how vital the matter is.” 

Dr. Kent, who was again restlessly pac- 
ing the room as if the four walls stifled 
him, made no response to this last appeal. 

Ffairfax found resistance to his wishes 
anything but soothing to his temper. He 


56 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


maintained a placid exterior, however, as 
the tedious minutes passed, indicating his 
impatience solely by consulting somewhat 
ostentatiously his watch. 

“ I see I must be quick if I catch the 
next southbound train,” he said finally, 
rising and still suavely gracious. “ May 
I congratulate myself that my mission 
has not proved a failure?” 

“ To be frank,” replied the doctor, rally- 
ing from his abstraction, “ I should have 
preferred — very much preferred — that the 
request had not been made at all. It is 
unusual — altogether out of the ordinary — 
it is a surprise. I must have time for con- 
sideration.” 

“ All that you like, only ” 

“ I understand the urgency of the situa- 
tion. Business calls me to town the day 
after to-morrow. I will give you a decided 
answer then, and until then I promise to 
regard it as favorably as possible.” 

“ Thank you, thank 3^ou,” grasping the 
doctor s rather limp hand warmly. “ From 
you, that is almost as good as uncondi- 
tional surrender. And now I must be 
gone.’’ 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


57 


“ Stop one moment/^ sharply, and Ffair- 
fax was startled at the white, grave face 
that confronted him as he turned a trifle 
impatiently upon the threshhold. “ I 
want you to remember always — no matter 
what the issue of this mad venture may 
be — that it was you who originated the 
scheme, you who proposed, you who forced 
it upon me. It is your own doing from 
first to last.’^ 

“ Why, certainly, I understand that,” 
laughed Ffairfax, relieved, yet wondering 
at this strange, uncalled for vehemence. 
“ I gladly shoulder all responsibility ; and, 
moreover, you may understand that — to 
quote your own words — ‘ whatever the 
issue of this mad venture may be,^ I exon- 
erate you now from all and any blame. 
Why, confound it, if we hadn’t every con- 
fidence in you, would we trust our best 
and dearest to your care ? And,” stepping 
back into the entrance where the light fell 
full upon his frank, handsome face — 
swayed unaccountably, yet forcibly, by 
some sudden emotion, ‘‘ I want to say 
another thing, Kent. It is true we are 
not always in sympathy — our opinions 


158 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


often clash — we donh view life through 
exactly the same spectacles, but at the 
bottom I think we both mean to be sin- 
cere and honest — to ring true ; and I want 
you to know,^^ again grasping the nerve- 
less hand, “ that there is no man living 
whom I esteem as highly as I do you — 
whose integrity I believe to be as unassail- 
able. Good night,’^ and with that he was 
gone. 

Gone whistling softly on his star-lit 
way, well pleased with the result of his 
visit, thinking, however, among other 
things that crowded upon his busy brain, 
that Kent would be a much more compan- 
ionable fellow if he didn’t take life so con- 
foundedly serious. Why in the name of 
Sheol now did he want to look so lugu- 
brious and tragic over such a simple propo- 
sition ? One would think he had been 
asked to commit murder rather thau to 
indulge in a harmless relaxation of duties. 

Ffairfax couldn’t understand it. But, 
after all, it was a trivial consideration, and 
on the whole he was well pleased. He 
had accomplished his purpose. 

Perhaps could he have looked baek and 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


159 


fathomed the thoughts of the man he had 
left he would hardly have been so compla- 
cent — would hardly have congratulated 
himself over and again upon the success 
of his mission as the train sped homeward 
through the darkness — would hardly have 
imparted to a very blank and bewildered- 
looking Vivian indeed, with such triumph- 
ant eagerness, the object and accomplish- 
ment of his mysterious, flyaway trip ' to 
Ingleclyfife. 


CHAPTER XI 


Douglas Kent was glad when his visitor 
had gone and he could be alone. 

In the self-communion and conflict suc- 
ceeding that visitor’s departure he needed 
to be alone, for he had been brought face 
to face with a leading issue of his life. 

All of the passionate utterances he had 
flung at Vivian Chenault one sensuous 
June evening not many months ago were 
as true to-night as they had been true 
then. No change was possible to his 
loyal, constant nature. 

Madness his love might be, but, if so, 
then it was an incurable, eternal madness. 

He had never believed himself a coward, 
but here suddenly confronting him were 
conditions under il' which he wavered. 
When he had told Ffairfax Travers that 
he would have preferred that his request 
had not been made at all he had spoken 
truly. For it involved much that it were 
wiser — for the sake of his own safety and 


SIR SUPERIOR. i6i 

peace of mind — that Dr. Kent should steer 
clear of. 

He did not deceive himself for one 
instant as to his weakness. Neither did 
he deceive himself as to the right and 
wrong of the matter — that was all clear 
and unequivocal to him from the start. 
No bewildering cloud obscured the horizon 
where the white star of truth and honor 
shone steadfast and serene. Never — come 
what might — could he plead for himself 
the extenuation of ambiguity, or deny that 
the rigid path of rectitude had not gleamed 
ever before him like a silver thread mid 
surrounding gloom and chaos. The sole 
difficulty lay in pursiiing its straight and 
austere course. 

He knew at once that to accede to Ffair- 
fax Travers’ request was not the right 
thing to do, and yet simultaneously in his 
inmost soul he felt that, nevertheless, it 
was irrevocably the thing that he should 
do. There was no force within powerful 
enough to withstand the pressure without, 
or to combat and overcome the passion 
that had taken hold upon him. 

And yet he remembered — with a touch 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


162 

of self-contempt — that he had made some 
flimsy pretence of resistance ; had fenced 
and hedged; and had really led Travers 
to believe that his consent was hardly 
won. 

Even now, with the conviction upon 
him that but one course was possible to 
him, he was considering in his mind the 
feasibility of the matter, using specious 
arguments with conscience as it were in 
favor of the indulgence of his own desire. 

Hitherto his moral standard had been 
an exalted, inflexible, even an arrogant 
one — recognizing no vascillating, weak, 
compromising, go-between course. To- 
night he debated with himself. 

Was he not over-punctilious? Was he 
not straining a point of honor — making a 
mountain of a mole-hill? To all eyes 
save his own it was not only a proper, 
advisable and wise thing to do, it was well 
nigh a compulsory one, for a refusal on 
his part would place him in a selfish and 
ungracious light. 

And, after all, where was the harm or 
danger to any one but himself? 

If he chose to risk the chances and 


SIR SUPERIOR. 163 

abide by the consequences, surely it was 
his own affair. 

As if any sin can ever be self -bound — 
as if the sinner lives — howsoever humble, 
howsoever exalted — whose wrongdoing re- 
coils upon self alone, or who does not per- 
force whelm some other fellow-sufferer in 
the widening circles of the maelstrom that 
the casting of one evil stone creates ? 

Later in bitter anguish of soul he may 
have remembered and realized this im- 
mutable truth, but to-night he was riding 
high on a tidal wave of passion and 
triumph. For it was a triumph, and it 
thrilled the innermost core of his self- 
hood— this appeal from Vivian Chenault 
— the sweetest triumph, perchance, he 
would ever know. 

All that the world could give — youth, 
beauty, love, wealth, high social status — 
were hers. And yet in her first hour of 
real need — in this first sorrow that had 
shadowed her life — she had been compelled 
to turn to him for succor. In spite of 
prejudice; in spite of dislike; in spite of 
the ultra antagonism that had prevailed 
between them, his intrinsic worth and 


164 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


ability had forced her respect and confi- 
dence. 

That, surely, was something to be proud 
of forever. 

And he ? Should he refuse this one 
paltry thing which she had asked of him 
— this one little service that it would ever 
be his high and sweet privilege to render ? 

No, ten thousand times no. ; 

He was by no means an egotistical man, 
he never flattered himself for a moment 
that Vivian had been influenced in her 
preference by any consideration other than 
supreme selfishness. The long and the 
short of the matter was that she had at 
last become thoroughly frightened at the 
precarious condition of her health, and by 
some inexplicable, illogical deduction of 
her own fancied her best chance of salva- 
tion lay in his immediate supervision. 
That was all there was of that, and he 
knew it. He was sincere here, at all 
events, but, alas ! it only strengthened 
and confirmed his spurious argument that 
any mischievous result could affect him- 
self alone — on his head, no other, would 
the penalty fall, if penalty there were. 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


165 

And thus reiterating, his final resolu- 
tion was taken, and the next night but 
one found him making his way into Mrs. 
Travers’ drawing-room. 

Here obtained an atmosphere of conven- 
tional, well-bred repose. If any of these 
decorous people suffered conflicts with 
conscience, or fought battles with fate, 
they considerately kept the matter to 
themselves and altogether subservient to 
social amenities. 

Dr. Kent, thinking for the first time of 
his own appearance, glanced uneasily into 
the nearest mirror and was glad — and 
grateful to David and his sartorial guar- 
dian — to find himself quite en regie, 

Ffairfax was not present; Mrs. Travers 
was entertaining a few informal callers, 
and my lady Vivian was holding her own 
little court at the far end of the room, 
seated at the piano, accepting her usual 
quota of homage, after her usual imperious 
fashion, repaying the same in turn by the 
indifferent execution of some rather indif- 
ferent music. 

After a time, finding the situation irk- 
some, Dr. Kent quietly obliterated him- 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


1 66 

self by withdrawing into the embrasure 
of a heavily curtained oriel window, where 
he was virtually alone. As he perfunc- 
torily gazed out upon the wet, shining 
sidewalks, his reflections were neither 
pleasant nor reassuring. It was unmis- 
takably a moment of gloom and doubt 
and questioning misgiving as to the wis- 
dom of his being here at all. 

They’ve gone at last — those tiresome 
people — I thought they never would, but 
I suppose the minutes always seem hours 
when one is impatient. You no doubt are 
too well regulated to understand anything 
about that ?” Vivian stood before him ; 
she had unceremoniously thrust aside the 
curtains — incidentally thrusting aside all 
irritating, maddening reflection with them 
— peace and radiance in her wake. 

Wisdom to the winds 1 He was glad 
now through all his being that he was 
here — glad and content. His eyes rested 
as they rested upon her. He knew noth- 
ing of the intricacies of feminine apparel, 
but he knew full well that she reminded 
him very much of a young princess in 
her purple velvet gown, with burdensome 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


167 


ropes of great, translucent pearls carelessly 
thrown about her neck and drooping low 
upon her bosom. 

She was very fond of fine raiment — 
goodly apparel and gilded trappings — was 
this frail, faulty Vivian of mine, and with 
the frankness that was one redeeming 
quality to her credit made no secret of 
this fondness, for she lived and dressed up 
to her convictions. 

She had been admonished by her modiste, 
remonstrated with and scolded by Mrs. 
Travers, and openly and unfavorably crit- 
icised by more or less well-meaning friends 
as to her lavish, even bizarre taste. It 
was decidedly bad form for a young girl 
to affect trailing, velvet robes ; and it was 
worse than bad form for a young girl — or 
any one else — to sport as many jewels, 
especially diamonds, on all occasions, as 
did Miss Chenault. 

But Miss Chenault was a law unto her- 
self in the matter, and as a rule indulged 
her own barbaric taste. And to-night she 
was gowned in her favorite royal fabric 
and there were gems flashing from her 
ears, and the hand that toyed witlr the 


i68 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


strings of pearls was heavily dowered with 
diamonds. 

I am afraid I was rude to them/^ she 
continued, “ but I was so anxious, you 
see, to hear your opiniou of this brilliant 
scheme that Ffairfax and grandmamma 
have concocted between them.” 

“ Your trip, you mean ?” 

“ No, not at all,” decidedly, with an im- 
patient shrug. “ Not my trip, but your 
trip. What do you think of it ?” 

“ It was a proposition, to say the least,” 
a trifle constrained, “ that surprised me 
very much.” 

“ Yes, it surprised me, too ; but,” with 
downcast eyes and slowly fingering the 
pearls as if she were telling beads, “ there 
was something that surprised me very 
much more.” 

Indeed ?” 

Yes — your acquiesence to the proposi- 
tion. I didn’t think you would entertain 
it for an instant. I told Ffairfax he must 
be mistaken — must have misunderstood. 
Was he mistaken?” suddenly lifting her 
eyes directly to his, an undeniable note 
of anxiety in her voice, 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


69 


No, he was not mistaken. I have de- 
cided to go ; that is/’ smiling slightly, “ if 
the scheme is still on tapis — has not been 
abandoned.” 

“ Abandoned ? Ffairfax never aban- 
doned anything in his life.” 

“ And what do you think of it ? What 
is your preference in the matter, to go or 
not to go ?” 

“ I ?” with a pretty, affected, little moue 
and another shrug. “I? Oh! I haven’t 
been consulted at all. I am led like a 
lamb to the slaughter. They say it will 
benefit me greatly — perhaps they know — 
and grandmamma wishes it very much ; 

therefore I have consented to ” 

To be sacrificed. How very unselfish 
and considerate Miss Chenault has become 
of late. Allow me to congratulate her.” 

“ Thanks, but unfortunately one’s best 
motives are often misconstrued and im- 
pugned by an unappreciative world. 
There are no doubt people who will say 
that Miss Chenault consults her own 
wishes in the matter — that she goes merely 
to please herself,” and laughing she turned 
to greet Ffairfax, who had just entered, 


70 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


He was jubilant at sight of Dr. Kent, 
and more than jubilant when he heard 
his favorable decision. 

“ I was afraid,” he said, “ that after you 
slept on it, you would go back on your 
word. Thank heaven, it is settled at last! 
A fine time IVe had between you two. 
For after all of my trouble and diplomacy, 
doctor, when I disclosed my plan to this 
unreasonable ‘young person she opposed it 
outright, and was kind and complimentary 
enough to wish old Verbose — myself — 
another person whose identity shall not 
be betrayed — and Santa Barbara (weVe 
decided upon Santa Barbara) at the bot- 
tom of the sea. It was all that I could do to 
talk her over ; indeed, it was not until — ” 
“ Ffairfax, dear,” interrupted Vivian, 
carelessly, but with cheeks aflame, “ if 
you have a fault it is that you are al- 
together too ingenuous and confiding. 
Drop the Santa Barbara subject for a 
while ; it has become tiresome,” 

Nevertheless the subject was not drop- 
ped, and before they parted for the night 
everything in regard to it was arranged 
down to the minutest details. 


CHAPTER XII. 


“ I hope you will remember/^ said Ffair- 
fax the day following, “ that although 
Kent will of course be handsomely re- 
munerated for his services he is after all 
conferring a favor, and you don^t want to 
be too confoundedly contrary and exas- 
perating. Every one can^t be expected to 
have my patience and forbearance, you 
know.” 

“ Certainly, I shall remember if you 
wish, dear,” Vivian responded serenely, 
“ but it will hardly make any difference 
in my conduct. If Sir Superior takes ad- 
vantage of his position to domineer and 
tyrannize, he must accept the consequences 
of his rashness, that is all. I told you 
from the first that it was an absurd scheme 
sending us two off together, when our an- 
tagonism is proverbial.” 

You wouldn’t go without him.” 

I never wanted to go with him.” 

‘‘Very well,” stolidly. “I suppose if 


172 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


you are resolved upon being disagreeable 
nothing can change you. There’s one 
comfort, however, Kent is quite able to 
hold ” 

“What is that about Kent?” inter- 
rupted the doctor, coming unawares upon 
them. 

“ Only this,” laughed Vivian, equal to 
the embarrassing emergency of having 
been overheard. “ Ffairfax is trembling 
for your safety. He fears that we may 
quarrel and that you will be utterly de- 
molished, and is interceding in your be- 
half.” 

The day fixed for departure dawned 
clear, bright, even sparkling, for a slight 
rime of snow and frost — begotten by some 
wizard spell during the mysterious silence 
of the night — encrusted now sidewalks, 
trees and house-tops, and, catching fresh 
radiance from a refulgent sun, dimpled 
beneath the golden kiss into countless, 
tremulous, irridescent gems. 

So far everything concerning the trip 
had been singularly propitious. There 
had been no evil omens for Vivian — who 
affected superstition — to carp over. And 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


173 


with the exception of Ffairfax is was a 
gay and laughing party that ascended the 
gang-plank and boarded the steamer. 

Ffairfax was undeniably dismal and 
disconsolate. He had not realized acutely 
until this morning that he was to be so 
entirely left. 

With characteristic vim he had rushed 
matters, walking rough-shod over all ob- 
stacles. He had been utterly absorbed in 
the accomplishment of his purpose. It 
had been a positive pleasure to his per- 
sistent nature to coerce other people^s 
wills to his own — to carry out in the face 
of all opposition what he considered a 
most advantageous scheme. And he had 
succeeded wonderfully well, but, alas ! 
this very success reacted in a way not es- 
timated upon. 

Pie had with rare and commendable 
forethought effected everything for the 
comfort of everybody. Neither trouble 
nof expense had been spared. He had se- 
cured for Vivian the most desirable and 
spacious stateroom and had it handsomely 
refitted. Every arrangement was satis- 
factory and complete. And yet to-day, 


174 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


surveying it all, his buoyant flow of spirits 
had deserted him and he found himself 
suddenly oppressed by a sense of utter 
loneliness and desolation that he could 
not overcome. 

He inwardly regretted at this final mo- 
ment that he had not snapped his fingers 
at business complications and arranged to 
accompany them to their destination at 
least and see them safely installed in the 
quarters that awaited their coming. 

The weeks that he might be separated 
from Vivian loomed up formidably before 
him, and in the gloom of their shadow he 
almost lost sight of the ultimate object of 
the trip. 

In the hurry and bustle and divertise- 
ment of starting he discovered, to his 
chagrin, that no one was thinking of him, 
Vivian least of all. 

Just now, after smiling good-by to some 
vanishing friends, she was leaning care- 
lessly against the rail, indifferently watch- 
ing the crowd below — a distmgue figure 
in her chic, indescribable, mist-colored 
costume — different and distinct from every 
one about her — looking, as the man watch- 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


175 


ing her thought with a thrill of supreme 
satisfaction, just as Mrs. Ffairfax Travers 
should look — a woman to be proud of in a 
million. 

“ I don’t believe you care a rap about 
leaving me,” he said a moment later, when 
he had taken her ostensibly to inspect the 
luxurious appointments of the stateroom 
where his combined efforts to minister to 
her pleasute and comfort had culminated, 
but really for a few, last, precious moments 
alone. “ Tell me, sweetheart,” pleadingly, 
that you are sorry ?” 

“ You shouldn’t have made it all so 
thoroughly delightful,” she laughed 
brightly, glancing about at the tasteful 
decorations. “ How can I be sad and sor- 
rowful when I am to be lodged like this, 
and with the whole ship at my command?” 

Vivian, my darling,” he exclaimed, 
gathering her nolens volens in his arms, 
“ you don’t realize at all that this is good- 
by — that we are parting for weeks, months 
perhaps — that this is the last time I shall 
see you. I am sorry now that I ever 
decided to remain, that I did not arrange 
from the first to go with you. I wish 


176 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


“ But, Ffairfax — you dear,foolisli , ridicu- 
lous Ffairfax,” struggling to extricate 
herself, “ it is too late to be sorry now — 
too late for — Oh ! do listen, there is the 
signal, and you will in reality be taken 
with us if you are not quick.^^ 

And indeed there was a general stam- 
pede and rush about them, as with a final 
clasp and shower of hurried kisses he left 
her. 

It was with a heavy heart — the first 
foreboding of impending evil — that he 
stood upon the pier, and, oblivious to the 
busy tide of life about him, watched until 
the last dim outlines of the steamer were 
lost in the shifting, uncertain blues and 
grays of the distance — watched until it 
had sailed away (bearing his love from 
him mayhap forever) out of the opalescent, 
blue calm of the bay into the grand and 
limitless sublimity of the ocean — the 
ocean beautiful in its magical, flashing, 
intoxicating splendor this day beneath 
the sunlight, but always and ever rife with 
many a treacherous, unseen, unfathomable 
danger. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


“ Dr. Verbose was right after all ; there 
has been a complete revulsion in my feel- 
ing toward him. I shall always look 
upon him as a benefactor.” This from 
Vivian many weeks later, as, idly swing- 
ing in a hammock, she gazed upward at 
the intense, fleckless blue overhead. 

Mrs. Travers paused in the intricacies 
of a new crochet pattern to glance at the 
girl, and evidently found the inspection 
satisfactory, for she gave a sigh of supreme 
content as she resumed her work. 

Vivian’s pallor and lassitude had given 
place to her former brilliancy and verve. 
She was as beautiful and apparently as 
well as when — almost a year now — we first 
saw her on the lawn at Ingleclyffe. 

If any secret, insidious disease were at 
work its presence would never have been 
suspected. The exterior, at all events, was 
fair and perfect, without flaw or blemish. 

Yes,” assented Mrs. Travers compla- 


78 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


cently, the trip has agreed with you 
wonderfully. You began to improve from 
the very first, and now you never cough 
at all. The climate has indeed done every- 
thing. It is almost a pity we pressed Dr. 
Kent into service — against his will, too — 
when the result proves that we might 
have dispensed with his attendance al- 
together.^’ 

How can you say such a thing?” ex- 
claimed Vivian irritably. “ Why, it is 
the very fact of his being here that has 
made me better. The anxiety and dread 
of those hemorrhages I should have under- 
gone without the security of his proximity 
would have counterbalanced most effect- 
ually any and all salutary advantages of 
climate.” 

“ I never thought of that ; perhaps you 
are right, dear,” coincided Mrs. Travers 
pacifically, somewhat surprised at the 
fervency she had unwittingly elicited. 

“ Oh ! of course,” sneered Raoul, who 
had up to this point apparently been im- 
mersed in his book, but now suddenly 
showed himself very much in evidence and 
entirely au fait, “You are stupid, grand- 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


179 


mamma. Haven’t you learned yet that it 
is a much greater offense now to even hint 
at anything derogatory to Dr. Kent than 
it formerly was to sing his praise. Moral : 
Ffairfax Travers is a fool.” 

What do you mean?” demanded Vivian 
sharply, with flaming cheeks and flashing 
eyes, struggling to an unright position. 

But Raoul had no concern for the storm 
he had roused other than to enjoy it, for 
he smiled sardonically as he replied with 
unabashed boldness : 

“ I mean that it is neither a wise nor 
advisable plan for any man to send his 
sweetheart off into exile for an indefinite 
length of time with another fellow.” 

“ RAOUL Vivian had quit the ham- 
mock and now stood threateningly erect, 
and in one word anger, consternation, re- 
sentment, indignation were blended. 

“ Oh ! you needn’t trot out any of your 
high tragedy airs for my benefit,” he con- 
tinued insolently, yet stolidly. It is all 
true, every word of it, and you know it. 
You have flirted shamefully with Dr. Kent 
ever since we started. I suppose Ffairfax 
thought he was awfully clever and long- 


i8o 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


headed when he housed you up here in 
this quiet, suburban, select establishment, 
instead of sending you to the Arlington 
or some other swell place. ^ But he might 
have known that you couldnh live with- 
out some fellow at your feet. The wonder 
is, though — and it is that that disgusts 
me — that Kent will let you make such a 
fool of him. Iwould never have believed 
it if I had not seen it. But,^’ contempt- 
uously, he is the spooniest spoon of all. 
Oh ! you might as well listen,^’ as Vivian 
essayed to interrupt, “ to what everybody 
is talking about. Why, even that pretty 
little Spanish chambermaid asked me this 
morning when the wedding was to come 
off.’’ 

Vivian’s wrath had risen before the 
boy’s insulting words until the power of 
speech had almost deserted her, and it was 
only her innate dignity that saved him 
from u severe shaking. 

“What?” she gasped. “You so far 
forget all decency and self-respect as to 
discuss my affairs with the servants ? 
Grandmamma ! Grandmamma ! Do you 
hear ? Do you sit quietly there and allow 


SIR SUPERIOR. i8i 

him to talk in that disgraceful fashion ? 
Why don’t you silence the atrocious little 
fiend ? I will not breathe the same air 
with him,” and with angry tears spring- 
ing to her eyes she turned and walked 
away. 

Raoul muttered something about a little 
fiend being preferable to a larger one, and 
when he bad respectfully if indifferently 
listened to Mrs. Travers’ severe reproof 
buried himself anew in his book. 

The true state of the case was that 
Raoul had a distinct grievance and could 
not rest calmly under it. 

The prospect of a trip to Santa Barbara 
in company with Dr. Kent he had hailed 
with delight. The idea of Vivian’s sick- 
ness he had all along secretly scoffed at, 
but if it served as a pretext for securing 
the companionship of his much loved 
friend and mentor, well and good. He 
regarded the doctor, however, as his own 
exclusive property, and was in the matter 
a monopolist to a bloated degree, fiercely 
resenting any foreign interference. What 
was his amazement and disgust, then, to 
find his pre-empted rights invaded and 


i 82 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


menaced and a counter claim established 
by Vivian. For from the time they had 
left the bay of New York she had coolly 
appropriated the doctor as a special pro- 
vision for her benefit. This would not 
have been so bad, either, nor disturbed 
his equaninity in the least, if — if (truly 
“jealousy is as cruel as the grave”) — if, 
alas ! Dr. Kent had not straightway sur- 
rendered to the enemy — not only surren- 
dered without a protest, but with evident 
relish for the situation. That was the 
worst and most startling feature of the 
whole miserable business. Of a surety 
his “ gold had become dimmed,” and he 
was disgusted with humanity and freely 
coincided with Shakespeare as to his views 
upon ingratitude. 

If others could so lightly forget the al- 
legiance to the past he could not. He re- 
membered but too well how he had fought 
like a tiger, as it were, for the doctor when 
he had been abused by Ffairfax and snub- 
bed by Vivian. And, lo ! now he was but 
a mere puppet in miladies hands, and 
Raoul, if not entirely forgotten, was a 
secondary consideration and altogether 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


183 

subservient. Truly, then, be bad a griev- 
ance tbat bad under tbe fostering care of 
bis selfishness and vanity developed gi- 
gantic proportions. 

He W2is not slo'w, then, to wreak bis 
vengeance wben opportunity offered, and 
chuckled with malicious satisfaction when 
he thought of Vivian’s indignation and 
the pointer he had given her. 

Perhaps Dr. Kent might not find her 
quite so angelic when next they met. Per- 
haps there might be a return to former 
hostilities, when she had invariably an- 
tagonized him and shown herself a ver- 
itable “ rose set about with little thorns.” 

But with all of his vicious cunning and 
astuteness Master Raoul had hardly fath- 
omed the unrevealed possibilities of Miss 
Chenault’s nature. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


Life at Santa Barbara had been unde- 
niably pleasant. There could be but one 
opinion as to that. 

To an outsider, a mere looker-on, it 
might perhaps have appeared tame, mo- 
notonous, even vapid, but to those most 
nearly concerned it was neither. 

The quiet was refreshing to Mrs. Trav- 
ers after the petty turmoil of a New York 
season. She enjoyed the indolent, un- 
eventful days as much as she enjoyed the 
mild, uniform weather ; and more than 
either did she enjoy the salutary effect of 
both upon Vivian. 

Raoul also improved steadily in health 
and spirits. The very novelty of the 
quaint, poetical old place, the people, every- 
thing about him, in such vivid contrast to 
his eastern home, afforded a never ending, 
curious study for this strange, observant 
boy. 

As for Dr. Kent and Miss Chenault, 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


185 


they had both from the start accej^ted the 
situation — the one philosophically, the 
other indifferently. 

It was a singular position certainly for 
a man to find himself in — appointed for 
the time being guardian, physician, referee 
of the woman whom, above all others, he 
should have avoided. 

The position had in a measure, it was 
true, been forced upon him, and he might 
have also, it was true, opposed more stren* 
uously its assumption. But he had not. 
And, after all, he was not the first man 
perhaps to disregard Thomas a Kempis^ 
austere admonition as to two conflicting 
paths of duty and follow that which lay 
nearest his hearths desire. 

Every man has his price. 

Fate might have allured him with the 
most dazzling offers within her power to 
prefer, and he would have remained in- 
flexible, never yielding an inch, but under 
this one simple condition he was as un- 
stable as water. The temptation was ir- 
resistible. 

His decision had been almost instan- 
taneous, and, so far, he had neither re- 


i86 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


gretted that decision nor desired its revo- 
cation. The present was fair beyond all 
he had hoped, each day bringing its own 
fresh insight into the possibilities of ex- 
istence — revealing to him all of the ex- 
quisite gradations of bliss — the extreme 
heights of ecstacy — the dark depths of 
despair — the rapture nigh akin to pain of 
this last, best and sweetest sense of loving. 

Miss Chenault, as previously observed, 
was indifferent. 

She had never possessed either taste or 
talent for analysis, and had for the most 
part accepted things as they were trans- 
mitted. The surface had always been suffi- 
cient for her, because perhaps the surface 
had always been such a thoroughly enjoy- 
able, delightful affair. And so long as life 
flowed smoothly she gave herself no con- 
cern. The present proved no exception 
to her general laisser-faire rule. 

The days as they drifted lazily by were 
pleasant, and she gathered unto herself 
their light and sweetness without thought 
or question. They were bright and beauti- 
ful — she remembered that afterward, gar- 
nering the memory most preciously in the 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


187 


darkness that followed — and they were 
brief, ah ! so very, very brief ! 

Gladly to-day after her brother’s inso- 
lence would she have pursued her usual 
happy, expedient custom of accepting the 
agreeable and discarding the disagreeable. 
But to her dismay she found such delight- 
ful irresponsibility no longer possible. 

She had walked loftily away from Raoul, 
ignoring with fine disdain his insufferable 
rudeness and distasteful suggestions, but, 
alas ! there were other things equally dis- 
tasteful and insufferable that she could 
not walk away from and scornfully ignore. 

Her careless, inconsequent, flexile pol- 
icy had received an unexpected check from 
an unexpected source. 

Raoul’s spiteful insinuations, might, in- 
deed, have been thrust aside as lightly as 
the presence of an obnoxious insect, had 
they been merely spiteful insinuations ; 
but what of the new and appalling truth 
they had disclosed? 

The revelation came to her with a sud- 
den shock of dismay, bringing chaos with 
it. She was overwhelmed with a sense of 
utter helplessness and bewilderment and 


88 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


humiliation — for she was proud, if any- 
thing — and she remembered that she was 
a promised wife. 

She remembered other things also, well 
nigh forgotten until now : An odorous 
June night perchance — a girl singing 
softly to herself, with the flush of Jac- 
queminot roses upon her bosom and a 
lover^s kiss yet warm upon her lips — a 
white, troubled face, with gleaming, pas- 
sionate eyes — and some mad, reckless 
words. They come back to her now with 
renew^ed force, written as it were in in- 
effaceable letters of fire. 

Intuitively she covered her face with 
her hands as if she might shut out the 
whole memory — and there were tears, 
bitter and blinding, scorching her eyes. 
Tears ! She dashed them aside resent- 
fully — what had she to do with tears? 
Tiresome, foolish things they were, and 
she would have none of them. 

But when they were dried and the sweet 
eyes were but sweeter for the brief shower, 
and the head was again proudly erect, 
there was still this new, troublous, treach- 
erous turbulence in her heart. 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


189 


What should exorcise that ? 

It was well and wise, however, to efface 
all external evidence of emotion, for she 
was very much in evidence herself, being 
on the high road — or rather a wide, cir- 
cuitous lane, an off-shoot from the high 
road, but frequented as a convenient by- 
way by the community at large, and she 
might encounter any one — every one. This 
very moment, looking ahead, she recog- 
nized Dr. Kent approaching on his wheel. 
He was at some distance yet, pedalling 
leisurely, and had not seen her at all. 

It was quite unaccountable, but as she 
watched him a strange, sweet, almost 
sublime calm fell upon her and quieted 
her very soul. The distracting fears and 
doubts and perplexities of a moment since 
were suddenly quelled— held at bay, as it 
were, by the one supreme emotion that 
swayed her. 

Love waits not his chariot wheels of fire 
for fittest time, place nor occasion, but in- 
vades wheresoever and when he will, and 
now even though he may — nay, must — 
come to sure and speedy grief, dashed 
forward in fearless, triumphant fashion. 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


190 

Dr. Kent, surprised at the meeting, 
halted and dismounted. 

‘‘ You, Miss Chenault, here and alone 
he exclaimed, advancing. “ How does it 
happen ? Were you so impatient for what 

I might bring that you could not w 

but suddenly the light raillery died upon 
his lips and he stopped abruptly like one 
dazed. 

Was it some swift, subtle intuition, or 
was it the new light in her eyes, carrying 
its own rapturous revelation, that bewil- 
dered and yet enlightened him ? 

No matter, though ; Love had not ridden 
so valiantly for naught. 

In a moment he was at her side, bend- 
ing over her with eager, intent, incredu- 
lous, questioning eyes. 

Nothing perhaps could have brought 
her so sharply and surely to a fitting 
sense of the situation, or have restored 
so effectually her usual repose and equan- 
imity. 

“ Don’t flatter yourself that for any rea- 
son whatever I came to meet you at all,” 
she answered carelessly, and yet with a 
certain ripple of gladness in her very tone. 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


191 

“ I came this way because I was blind 
with rage and neither knew nor cared 
whither it led. It is Raoul again,” in re- 
ply to his look of surprised inquiry. I 
thought his temper had improved, but no. 
He exasperated me just now beyond all 
measure. I have been crying. Are my 
eyes red ?” 

“ No, they are purple — and beautiful as 
always. But it is foolish, even childish, 
to allow RaouVs eccentricities to aggra- 
vate you to such an extent.” 

But he can be so very insolent and pro- 
voking. You have no idea.” 

“ Oh, yes, I have quite an idea, but you 
should remember that his physical defec- 
tion has a more or less deleterious effect 
upon his mental calibre. He is morbid 
and apt to take distorted views of life.” 

“Do you think so, really?” with a 
quick, direct glance. 

“ Most undoubtedly. Raoul seldom 
sees things in their just and true light. 
But why do you smile?” 

Miss Chenault, however, was neither 
assured nor convinced. She had known 
her brother to hit uncomfortably near the 


192 


siil SUPERIOR. 


truth on occasion, and she smiled because 
— well, she was wondering, whimsically, 
just how — had he heard it — Dr. Kent 
would have diagnosed RaouPs recent on- 
slaught. Distorted, morbid or true ? 

But' she wisely waived the subject, and 
when at length Raoul looked up at the 
sound of their voices they were chatting 
at such an ordinary, careless rate — the 
doctor leisurely guiding his wheel, Vivian 
lightly swinging her garden hat, that had 
been converted into a basket and filled 
with the wonderful flowers that riot in 
such rich profusion everywhere in and 
about Santa Barbara — he decided at once 
that his malicious shot had missed fire. 
Evidently they were still good comrades. 

But truly Raoul need not in his crude, 
blundering fashion have exercised him- 
self about the matter, for already fate had 
taken it in hand in her own finished, un- 
erring, effectual way. 

“Something for everybody,” said the 
doctor, as he approached, producing the 
mail. “ There, Raoul,” tossing him the 
latest magazines, “ they will please your 
palate. For the rest, we all have letters.” 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


193 


Vivian glanced at hers — it was not diffi- 
cult to guess from what quarter emanated 
the bulky, formidable-looking bulletins 
that arrived with such clocklike punctual- 
ity — but she did not directly open it. 

She was watching Mrs. Travers^ en- 
velope, which was addressed in the same 
bold, dashing hand. 

Grandmamma,” she asked, crossing 
the lawn and leaning over Mrs. Travers’ 
shoulder, what is it Ffairfax has to say 
that he must write to you also ?” 

“ Only listen,” exclaimed Mrs. Travers, 
with an attempt at pleasantry. You are 
surely not jealous of your old grand- 
mother? Haven’t you a letter of your 
own ? But you must see this also. In- 
deed, no,” laughing. “Why, Vivian,” 
reprovingly, for Vivian had possessed her- 
self of and was deliberately reading the 
contested letter. 

She returned it quickly, however, frown- 
ing. “ Ffairfax is altogether too officious,” 
she said. “ I hope he has written nothing 
of the kind to me,” opening her own en- 
velope now almost impatiently. But Ffair- 
fax had written quite the same thing to her. 


194 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


In his opinion the stay in Santa Bar- 
bara should be cut short at once, its pur- 
pose having been so well accomplished. 
Vivian’s health had been restored — the 
season was rapidly advancing — it would 
soon be time for the Catskills or the sea- 
side. And then there followed a pathetic 
appeal on his own account, a touching 
plaint of his loneliness and the dreariness 
of life without her. All of which she 
skimmed lightly over and promptly attrib- 
uted to selfishness. 

Miss Chenault had quite an aptitude for 
discerning selfishness in others. 

When she had finished and returned to 
her surroundings, she found Dr. Kent and 
Mrs. Travers quietly discussing Ffairfax’s 
suggestion. She listened impatiently for 
a few moments. 

Well, really,” she broke in finally, 
one would imagine that you two favored 
the proposition” 

‘‘ And why shouldn’t we ?” asked Mrs. 
Travers mildly, somewhat startled at the 
aggrieved, aggressive tone. “I do feel 
sorry for Ffairfax. No doubt these weeks 
have been long and tedious ones for him, 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


195 


poor fellow — and we having such a de- 
lightful time, too, all the while. It is 
rather hard lines, I must admit.’’ 

“ It is a selfish, dog-in-the-manger argu- 
ment to urge for curtailing our pleasure,” 
retorted Vivian. 

But he doesn’t urge it,” laughed Mrs. 
Travers. It was I. Do.be just and 
reasonable, my dear.” 

But you surely don’t think we should 
start for home at once, merely because 
Ffairfax suggests it ?” 

“ I think his wishes in the matter should 
be consulted first and foremost. And, be- 
sides, it can make but little difference 
either way, for it is a question of only a 
week or so at best. You know we in- 
tended in any event to leave within the 
month, and Dr. Kent himself agrees with 
Ffairfax that the sooner we set our faces 
homeward ” 

Oh, in that case,” with a touch of her 
old sarcasm, further argument is futile. 
Dr. Kent’s opinion must perforce be in- 
fallible. We will of course abide by it,” 
with which she left them. 

Whew I” whistled Raoul. The salu- 


196 SIR SUPERIOR. 

brious climate of California Has not im- 
proved Viva’s temper as much as it has 
her health. How she did go for you, 
doctor. It reminded me,” with impish 
glee, “ of the old times when you first 
came to IngleclyfFe. Don’t you remem- 
ber ?” 

But Dr. Kent was giving little heed to 
the boy’s idle chatter. 

He was gazing with troubled, perplexed 
eyes after Miss Chenault’s repeating fig- 
ure, and his thoughts were running mad 
riot through his brain. He, too, turned 
and walked away. ^ 

A few moments since he had caught a 
glimpse of heaven through the light of a 
woman’s eyes ; but it had been as fleeting 
as heavenly things are wont to be — elud- 
ing him ere he was altogether sure of its 
presence. 

Now he was filled with a vague sense of 
alarm at the intimation of an evil that had 
been all undreamed of in his weak and 
specious sophistries. 

He had said he would drink forbidden 
waters and the consequences should fall 
upon his own head. But here, alas I was 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


197 


a consequence more dire than any he had 
imagined, since it not only affected others 
than himself, but involved new and seri- 
ous complications. 

He had driven a bargain with the devil, 
and the devil had distanced him by long 
odds. 

With perhaps pardonable self-righteous- 
ness he had previously believed implicitly 
in the sincerity at least of his own recti- 
tude — his honesty of purpose — but to-day 
in the drastic self-communion, under this 
new light that illumined his soul, he stood 
convicted before the tribunal of conscience. 

Such moments are good for us no 
doubt, but they cannot be said to be other 
than humiliating and painful to the last 
degree. And the keener our sense of 
honor and justice — the more exalted the 
moral standard of our lives — the more 
humiliating and painful will they be. 

The Master himself did not require as 
much of the servant to whom one talent 
had been entrusted as he did of him who 
had received ten. 

What, therefore, may be but a trivial 
offense in a man with a stunted, ignorant. 


198 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


ignoble nature may in one upon a 
higher spiritual plane — enlightened by a 
greater degree of wisdom and truth — 
amount to positive crime. 

Ignorance surely may always plead in 
behalf of an offender, but what of him 
who sins with open eyes ! 

Temptation once overcome is temptation 
once removed. 

But Douglas Kent^s temptation had 
neither been overcome nor removed. 

It had, on the contrary, been gathered 
to his heart and nurtured there, in a close, 
clinging embrace, as the fairest thing life 
could bestow. 

And so now it was far more difficult 
than it would have been in the first 
instance to turn his back upon the beam 
teous, new world opening before him. 

He was withal but a man, with a man’s 
force and fervor and passion, in the full 
vigor and prime of his manhood. How, 
then, was renunciation possible ? 

When in a moment long past, lashed by 
a frenzy of passion and jealous rage, he had 
upbraided her with heartlessness, and 
boldly avowed that the lesson of love was 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


199 


as yet but a dead letter unto her, lie bad 
little guessed that for him would it be re- 
served to illumine it with the living fire 
that catches its wondrous radiance from a 
divine source. 

The very thought now filled him with 
a delirium of bliss — a dangerous delirium 
as well — for it threatened an upheaval and 
overthrow of all preconceived moral stand- 
ards. 


CHAPTER XV. 


Two and two make four. Two from 
two leaves nothing. 

Nobody will dispute such very plain 
facts. 

When last we saw Ffairfax Travers he 
was depressed and miserable because 
Vivian was going away. When next we 
see him he is light-hearted and buoyant 
because Vivian is coming back. 

Yes, the world was once again a delight- 
ful and desirable place, and the wheels of 
time bowled blithely. 

Ffairfax was pre-eminently happy, and 
(unlike the majority of humanity) he 
knew it, and acknowledged and appreciated 
the fact. 

His sense of worldly advantages and 
material benefits was thoroughly devel- 
oped. He underrated nothing ; therefore 
he realized fully that his lot in life was an 
exceptionally bright one. 

He was not by any means a self-made 
p;an. He had been launched at the out- 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


201 


set with money, position, influence, but he 
had abused none of his opportunities and 
availed himself of all of his advantages. 

His success in financial matters had 
been something marvelous. 

There were men in the street, twice his 
age with thrice his experience, who had 
not achieved as much. 

As for his social and domestic relations, 
as has been shown, they were of the hap- 
piest ; more especially since winning 
Vivian’s consent to become his wife. 

It was true the danger that had menaced 
her health had furnished grave cause for 
alarm and anxiety, but by prompt and 
judicious measures that had happily been 
averted. 

Recent letters from Santa Barbara had 
been sufficiently reassuring to allay all 
apprehension on that score — so very re- 
assuring, indeed, that he had taken it 
upon himself to write suggesting her re- 
turn. Vivian would be glad of that letter 
he knew. Santa Barbara was all very 
well for a while, but for a permanency 
there was no place on the green earth like 
New York. 


202 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


His heart beat high with hope and ex- 
pectation in the joyous anticipation of 
again seeing her. What a dreary wait it 
had been (he would see to it that no other 
such occurred again), but it was all over 
now, and he felt as he adjusted a bouton- 
niere of violets and softly whistled snatches 
from his favorite opera that his star was, 
in truth, in the ascendant. 

He congratulated himself on the fair 
prospect of life as it lay before him, and 
the commendable finesse with which he 
had manipulated fate. He also experi- 
enced a touch of charitable, if contemptu- 
ous, pity for those less favored — or rather 
less diplomatic — than himself. There 
were men (Kent, for instance) his supe- 
riors indisputably as to mental calibre, 
and no doubt in many other respects, who 
never accomplished as much — men who 
were always content with mere plodding, 
who might live to a ripe, old age and yet 
never compass half the possibilities of 
which life was capable. 

It was odd, but in this connection the 
memory of the day came back to him when 
Vivian had first pledged herself to become 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


203 


his wife. The cool, quiet, old drawing- 
room, with its subdued, dreamy light ; 
Vivian in her pretty morning gown, with 
the chaste bit of smilax at her bosom, so 
very beautiful and so very aggravating, 
tantalizing him to the utmost verge before 
whispering the divine little yes ” that 
had lifted him to heaven ; and, too, the 
casual mention of Dr. Kent driving at the 
deviPs own pace through the broiling sun, 
to bind up a beggar’s broken head. 

Ah, well, every man to his taste. It 
was not Ffairfax Travers’ mission to con- 
cern himself about the masses. They 
were hardly worth it, or, at all events, in- 
discriminate altruism could very well be 
left to people with philanthropical, opti- 
mistic views of poor, struggling, selfish 
humanity — people who advocated impossi- 
ble, impracticable and altogether undesir- 
able and dangerous theories of reconstruc- 
tion and reform — people who obstinately 
refused to concede the simple yet trenchant 
and potent truths that milk cannot be all 
cream ; posies all roses ; a body all head ; 
every man a king. 

Ffairfax’s own theory recognized a 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


io4 

decided, well-defined bottom and top ; and 
happy was he who managed to scramble 
to the top. 

Ffairfax himself was on top — most em- 
phatically so — on this special May morn- 
ing, as he sauntered down Broadway 
self-satisfied and complacent. 

They would shortly receive his letter, 
he reflected,' and it could not be long 
thereafter until — Why, what a dolt he 
had been, to be sure. Why hadnh he 
thought of it before ? He should not have 
written at all. He should have gone. 
Was it too late now? calculating rapidly. 
No, it w,as not. Happy thought. He 
could get there. And what a delightful 
surprise it would be for Vivian. 

It was a clever idea really — it was more, 
it was a positive inspiration. 

The charm of life in Santa Barbara was 
broken. Its lightness, brightness and 
happy irresponsibility had given place to 
coldness and restraint. 

The change was intangible, indescrib- 
able, yet it was none the less palpable. 

Miss Chenault was no longer mutinous 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


205 


under her lover’s suggestion of a speedy 
return. In fact, she had gone to the oppo- 
site extreme, and was possessed with a frac- 
tious, feverish impatience to be off at once. 

The old spirit of perversity, perhaps, 
defying with pitiful bravado the new spirit 
of sorrow and unrest that had invaded her 
life with its tumultuous presence. 

She answered Ffairfax’s letter immedi- 
ately, advising him of their determination, 
and was really provoked at the leisurely 
manner with which Mrs. Travers con- 
ducted minor preparations. 

The fiercest battles of our lives are not 
fought in tranquility of soul, and to Dr. 
Kent also these few intervening days 
were a season of discomfort and wretched- 
ness. 

The night previous to departure he sat 
with Mrs. Travers in the wide, cheerful 
drawing-room, discussing plans for the 
morrow, and his ears may have accorded 
deferential attention to the soft-voiced old 
lady’s final arrangements, but his eyes 
undoubtedly followed with unremitting 
vigilance the restless figure pacing the 
veranda without. 


2o6 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


The tall, old-fashioned hall clock re- 
lentlessly recorded the fast fleeing mo- 
ments, as the gentle voice congratulated 
him anew on the success and happy cul- 
mination of the Santa Barbara venture. 

Suddenly the uneasy spirit without 
paused in its sentinel-like tread, hesitated 
and then disappeared into the shadowy 
gloom beyond. 

Fifteen minutes later the well-regulated, 
conscientious clock in eleven rasping, dis- 
cordant notes pealed forth the hour. 

“ So late as that ?” said Mrs. Travers, 
rising hurriedly. “ We should have re- 
tired sooner, as we make such an early 
start to-morrow. Vivian,” peering into 
darkness that revealed nothing. “ Now, 
where can she be? Wasn’t she here a 
moment ago?” 

‘Wes — no — that is — I think she is some- 
where in the grounds.” 

“ In the grounds at this hour ? Always 
thoughtless and imprudent. Will you be 
kind enough to find her. An imposition, I 
know, but,” apologetically, “remember that 
this unpardonable tax upon your time and 
patience will soon be at an end.” 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


207 


He smiled protestingly, bowed, and 
stepped without into the darkness. 

“ Vivian should be more considerate,’^ 
sighed Mrs. Travers. “ Too bad to take 
advantage of Dr. Kent’s obliging good 
nature and give unnecessary trouble.” 

^‘Nonsense,” growled Raoul in un- 
qualified disgust. “Why, grandmamma, 
he could scarcely sit still this last half 
hour, he was so anxious to follow her. 
Couldn’t you see that ? And she — oh ! 
well, then, I won’t say it if it annoys in- 
nocent, unsuspicious, unwise little gran’- 
ma’am. Come and kiss me good-night. 
Take me to my room, Jarboe ; I’m sleepy.” 

With the desperate, unnatural tension 
of the past few days still upon him, Doug- 
las Kent was not insensible to the insid- 
ious influences of the tropical night — the 
magical glamor of the moon — the mystical 
splendor of the stars — the burdensome 
freight of fragrance upwafted from thou- 
sands of flowers— all wrought their own se- 
ductive spell. 

He became dazed, distracted. Why this 
turmoil and strife of existence ? Cut 
bono f Where was the truth after all ? 


2o8 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


Did it lay in the life behind — the quiet, 
peaceful, beautiful life — with its white 
pennons of honor ever unfurled and un- 
sullied — that had once been all-sufficient 
and complete ? Or was it to be found 
here, regardless of all else save this pas- 
sionate madness that clutched him in its 
vise — here with this woman in his arms, 
her head upon his breast, his kisses upon 
her lips ? 

Even now, with this thought uppermost, 
he descried the white figure clearly outlined 
in the moonlight but a few paces distant. 

She was perhaps unaware of his prox- 
imity, for the perfect, statuesque pose re- 
mained unbroken, and as he advanced 
every detail of the picture impressed itself 
indelibly upon him — so indelibly that far 
down the reach of years its sweet and 
holy radiance shone, when other things 
had fallen away and been forgotten. 

He paused irresolute, loth by word or 
gesture to break what seemed an almost 
sacred spell of silence and repose. 

But, again, these moments were pre- 
cious. To-night there was life. To-mor- 
row there would be but death in life. 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


209 


Miss Chenault was not, however, the 
statue she looked. 

She knew full well he was there. She 
had known full well that he would come, 
and her heart beat time to every crush of 
his footfall upon the graveled way; and 
it was her voice that broke irrelevantly 
through the stillness carelessly, mock- 
ingly — albeit they were enacting the trag- 
edy of their lives. 

You have completed your preparations 
then,’^ she said, you and grandmamma, 
for the hegira to-morrow ? I suppose every- 
thing, without omission, is packed, strap- 
ped, labeled in readiness ? You are one 
of the perfect, exemplary mortals/^ a 
trifle bitterly, who do everything after 
the most approved, unexceptionable, in- 
fallible fashion.” 

^^Yes,” he responded, gladly adopting 
her light vein as a refuge from a more 
serious and dangerous one. I plead 
guilty, and somebody, in consequence 
thereof, was kind enough once to confer 
the degree of knighthood and dub me 
‘ Sir Superior.^ ” 

“ Raoul has told you, has he ?” smiling 


210 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


faintly. “ Tiresome little tattler — I knew 
he would. But it cannot signify greatly 
now/^ suddenly coming a step nearer, lift- 
ing the sweet eyes to his, one white, trem- 
ulous hand fluttering toward him, as a 
harbinger of peace. We will not quar- 
rel to-night, it is too near the end, you 
know — the end of what has been so beau- 
tiful, and that we must say good-by to for- 
ever. 

What did she mean, to drive him mad 
entirely ? 

Poor Vivian ! She was all untutored in 
the cruel way of sorrow. 

She was like some housed, sensitive 
plant set suddenly adrift amid the storm — 
torn, shaken, tempest-twisted and tossed 
— her very pride, that had always been a 
stronghold and safeguard, bruised and 
beaten and bedraggled in the dust. 

She had neither heart nor courage to 
face the future, and was clinging with 
pitiful, appealing hands to the beautiful, 
vanishing present. 

He guessed something of this — all per- 
haps — and was tempted anew to the 
utmost verge of endurance. 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


2II 


His brain reeled, his strength swerved 
and tottered. 

But he had made a high resolve and — 
if there was a God in heaven — he meant 
to keep it. 

“ Come,” he said with superhuman 
effort to keep his voice within prescribed 
bounds — to crush out all tenderness what- 
ever — that was a hapless, hopeless failure, 
and gathering the forlorn, little fingers in 
a close clasp upon his arm, “come, we 
will indeed quarrel if you persist in dis- 
obeying orders. Is it not positively pro- 
hibited to remain so long in this chill, 
night air? You know it is a forbidden 
thing. Don’t yon understand the peril ? 
Come,” and the next instant they are 
making their way swiftly, silently across 
the lawn, where the fitful fret-work of the 
moonlight lay in gleams of silver, and the 
sweet-sonled flowers breathed an incense 
of farewell. 

Not until' they reach the steps leading 
to the veranda, where they must indeed 
say good-night and good-by, does he suffer 
any relaxation of the curb he has put 
upon himself. 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


21 ^ 

But surely, surely out of the eternity 
of desolation stretching ahead, he may 
claim one meagre moment of time for his 
own. 

“ Only a word,’^ he says brokenly, when 
she has turned to leave him, still clinging 
to the pliant, white hand whether she will 
or no, only a word, it cannot harm you 
now, to know — and, oh, I want you to 
know — that the brief time that has been 
vouchsafed me to dwell within the light 
and sweetness of your presence has been 
— will always be — the very crown and 
flower of my life, something to be thank- 
ful to have lived for, and a recompense for 
aught that may befall either here or here- 
after.” 

Truly, he has ventured into deep and 
dangerous waters, but she is silent alto- 
gether, because, perhaps, the voice is not 
to be trusted for the briefest, most com- 
monplace, conventional utterances ; or be- 
cause, perhaps, it would not be anything 
at all commonplace, or conventional, if it 
gave vent to the tempest which was surg- 
ing within. 

Only a moment, but there are moments 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


213 


that encompass the height and depth of 
years. 

Turning, they faced Ffairfax Travers. 
He was coming down the steps to meet 
them, eager, smiling, happy. 

His clever inspiration had materialized. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


Previous even to their departure for 
Santa Barbara Ffairfax’s plans for the 
future had been quite clearly mapped out 
and announced. 

Vivian had listened somewhat indiffer- 
ently, a trifle amused, perhaps, at his 
superlative self-sufficiency and satisfac- 
tion, but had withal accorded tacit approval 
and consent. 

Indeed, there could be no reason for 
withholding either. The programme was 
all that could be desired. A tour abroad 
after the marriage in June; a glance at 
London and Paris ; the summer and early 
fall in Switzerland, and then, in consider- 
tion of her health, the winter in Rome. 

What was Ffairfax^s amazement, then, 
upon broaching the subject shortly after 
their return, to be met with an army of 
objections. 

First and foremost in the ranks came 
the early date. 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


215 


Did he imagine she could possibly 
make all necessary preparations upon such 
short notice ? It was like a man^s stupid- 
ity and selfishness to expect anything so 
unreasonable.’’ 

“ But it was not short notice,” he pro- 
tested, and with the truth on his side. 
“ It had all been settled months ago. As 
to preparations, why what possible prepa- 
rations have you to make, dear ? I have 
looked after everything that is essential.” 

“Have you, indeed?” with blighting 
sarcasm. “ Everything, no doubt, that is 
essential for your own comfort and con- 
venience, but what of mine? There is 
the trousseau, for instance ; have you 
kindly submitted to have your measure 
taken for the gowns ?” 

“ What thorough nonsense, Vivian, as 
if you hadn’t more clothes now than you 
could ever wear. An elaborate trousseau 
is questionable policy, anyway, for it is a 
decided reflection upon previous state, 
color and condition of a woman’s wardrobe. 
Seriously, though, dearest, you don’t want 
to cart a cargo of trunks across the Atlan- 
tic and about the Continent. Besides,” 


2I6 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


with happy and conclusive logic, isnh 
Paris the nonpareil headquarters for all 
such trumpery 

But Miss Chenault was inexorable and 
carried her point, the happy (?) day being 
postponed at least for a short while. 

She had gained, it was true, but a brief 
respite, but just now she was grateful for 
even a brief respite. 

She was hoping and praying daily that 
something might intervene to stay events. 

No matter how dire the calamity, she 
would welcome it if it warded off this 
direst of .all calamities — her impending 
marriage. 

She was a coward morally, with no forti- 
tude even to face the truth, much less to 
avow it boldly and abide by it ; and yet 
she recoiled with all her heart and soul 
from the falsity that held her in its sti- 
fling grasp, and abhorred it. 

She was reckless and miserable, conse- 
quently fractious and inconsistent, and 
during these days preceding that set for 
the wedding there was a heavy drain upon 
both the patience and good-nature of Ffair- 
fax Travers. 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


217 


Raoul is right/^ Jie said to her once^ 
after a stormy outbreak over some com- 
parative trifle. “ Sauta Barbara may have 
been beneficial to your health, but it is 
more than can be said of your temper.” 

“ Amiability isnh my forte,” she re- 
torted coldly. “ I have never posed as a 
saint, and if you imagine ypu are marry- 
ing an angel it is best that the illusion be 
dispelled at once, before — before it is too 
late.” 

“ No, no,” with quick candor. I was 
never quite stupid enough to imagine any- 
thing so erroneous as that. Besides, 
angels are hardly in my own line — I^m 
not up to their exalted standard. And, 
indeed, I rather think it is the dash of the 
devil about you that first made me love 
you.” 

Some days later Vivian, coming slowly 
down the wide stairway, paused a moment 
at the sound of her grandmother^s voice, 
wondering who such an early caller might 
be. 

“ But isnh it a very sudden determina- 
tion ?” Mrs. Travers was saying, in a tone 
of regretful concern. “ It must be.” 


2I8 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


The voice responding set the listener’s 
heart to throbbing fiercely. 

“ No, hardly. It is true that I have 
said nothing about it, because, until now, 
there was nothing definite to say. But it 
is a move that I have contemplated for 
some little while.” 

Well,” sighing, “ it is unexpected 
to me at all events, and I shall miss you 
sadly ; indeed, I don’t know what any of 
us will do without you. Raoul will be 
heartbroken — he has gone for a drive — 
and Vivian — But I will call Vivian.” 

It is needless to call, grandmamma, 
she is here already,” entering. “ Ah ! I 
thought it was Dr. Kent’s voice,” advanc- 
ing and extending a wonderfully steady 
hand when one considered the wonderfully 
unsteady heart. But then one must con- 
sider also that the philosophy of suffering 
is, mercifully, rapidly acquired. 

At all events. Miss Chenault’s bearing 
was all that decorum demanded — easy, 
affable, self-possessed — one of the licensed 
lies of effete civilization. 

Alas, however, for platitude, propriety 
and pretense ! 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


219 


He may have been uncouth — savage (all 
men are when it comes to the passions) — 
but the eyes that met hers rode roughshod 
over conventionality — ruthlessly tram- 
pling all falsity — boldly bearing their own 
message of truth and flinging it fearlessly 
at her feet. And yet withal, pitiful, ten- 
der, troubled eyes betraying but too surely 
that they had so hungered and thirsted 
for sight of her that now no satiety 
seemed possible. 

Trembling, she turned aside and bent 
over a great, straggling bunch of rustic 
flowers, carelessly tossed upon a table. 

If in the past few weeks that have yet 
seemed interminable she had been tor- 
tured with the fear that separation and 
silence meant forgetfulness, in this mo- 
ment she had received full recompense. 
And such recompense she coveted. The 
whole tenor of her life had fostered the 
quality of selfishness ; and she was selfish 
here. She had given him her love — the 
richest, worthiest gift within her keeping, 
and although it carried with it, at once and 
inseparably, a pain equal to its bliss, she 
wanted in return to bear with her through 


220 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


life the compensating assurance of his 
love. 

She wanted to feel that he had suffered 
also ; that no other woman should ever be 
to him what she had been ; that this white 
and shining chapter of his life must be 
forever sacred and set aside and apart from 
all else, from all other joy, or even any 
pain and sorrow that could come after. 

Her nature was attuned to no high de- 
gree of renunciation. She had not at- 
tained that grand and exalted heroism 
that could desire his happiness while she 
was yet steeped in misery. 

“ Ingleclyffe wildfiowers,” she said, lift- 
ing some of the daisies — how familiar 
and how refreshing after hot-house ex- 
otics,” slipping them into her belt. “ They 
waft a breath of nature and of truth,” 
softly. 

Dr. Kent brought them as a peace 
offering, I think,” said Mrs. Travers. “Or, 
rather as an offset to the bad news he 
brought with them.” 

“ ‘ Bad news ?’ ” 

“ Yes, I consider it such, and you will, 
I believCj agree with me. He is going 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


221 


away — abroad. He has given np Ingle- 
clyffe and is here to bid ns an indefinite 
good-by.’’ 

“ Does he go immediately ?” (What 
troublesome, refractory things daisies are 
to adjust, demanding full attention of both 
one’s hands and eyes). 

“ He does not sail immediately, I be- 
lieve, but we shall not see him again. I 
have been trying to prevail upon him to 

wait until after the wedding, but ” 

But,” quickly interposed the doctor, 
“ I can’t afford to ; the situation won’t 
admit of it. You see,” smiling faintly, 
“ it’s like this : I have been so superseded 
and eclipsed by that young scamp Drayton 
that I consider it wisest to resign with 
honor and credit while yet I may, before I 
am invited to leave.” 

Nonsense !” laughed Mrs. Travers. 
“ That, of course, isn’t true. But, Vivian, 
he blames ns — or rather that memorable 
Santa Barbara trip — for the whole affair. 
He declares it spoiled him utterly, un- 
fitting him for work, and ” 

Yes,” lightl}" interrupting again, “ it 
demoralized me completely, with its insid- 


222 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


ious indolence. I find my old duties sim- 
ply intolerable, and shall for a while at 
least give full rein to latent Bohemian 
proclivities — wandering here, there, every- 
where — calling no place home until — 
Ah, well, until life has righted itself once 
more and the regulation routine is again 
— if ever — possible.” 

And so, making his final adieux, he left 
them. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


In the weeks that followed Father Time 
was quite as punctual, impartial and un- 
compromising as is his stolid wont, and 
mustered past the days in regulation rank 
and file, irrespective alike of any sunlight 
or shadow — weal or woe — that might be- 
tide poor humanity in their wake. 

To Ffairfax Travers they were tedious, 
trying, leaden-footed days, and he w^as 
openly restive and rebellious under what 
he considered unnecessary procrastination. 

Vivian, however, was imperturbable and 
pursued the tardy tenor of her way with 
irritating, maddening composure, and al- 
though each succeeding day yielded its 
own harvest of bitterness and despair, 
they were speeding all too swiftly for her. 

Up to the present she had gone reck- 
lessly on hoping against hope, believing 
almost implicitly that something w’ould — 
nay must — intervene between her and her 
impending fate. 


224 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


A non-committal policy had always been 
hers, and she had found it, on the whole, 
expedient and effective. 

She had escaped unpleasant situations 
and evaded cou flic ting issues more than 
once by simply remaining passive and al- 
lowing matters to adjust themselves. Pre- 
viously they had adjusted themselves so 
happily in Miss Chenault’s favor that it 
was hardly strange she should cling to a 
foolish fatuous hope that they might do 
so in the present instance. 

But now, when there remained to her so 
few days of grace, she lost faith. Hope 
died within her, yielding sway to a sick- 
ening, phoenix-like despair. 

“ You shouldn’t be permitted to read 
such morbid, unwholesome stuff,” she said 
impatiently to Raoul one day, tossing the^ 
book she had taken haphazard frorn. his^ 
table across the room, where it landed on 
the floor. ‘‘ No wonder you are fractious 
and disagreeable.” 

“ Some people can be fractious and dis- 
agreeable without the aid of reading at 
all,” retorted Raoul aptly. “ I wish. Viva, 
you would mind your own business and 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


225 


let me and mine alone. Fetch the book 
to me, Jarboe,” taking the offending vol- 
ume and carefully smoothing its crumpled 
leaves. “ Dr. Kent gave me this book 
and I like it very much.” 

It was not a cheerful book. It was a 
record of the various forms of punishment 
and torture devised by man at different 
periods to be inflicted upon his fellow 
man, among them the old legend from 
the French of “ The Man in the Iron 
Shroud.” 

Years before the gruesome tale had 
thrilled Vivian’s childish soul with horror, 
and now, recalling it anew, she traced a 
ghastly analogy between the hapless 
wretch and herself with these last, faint 
rays of hope fading out, leaving her in 
stifling, impenetrable darkness and the 
iron walls of destiny closing about her. 

What should she do? She did not 
know. But she did know — treacherous, 
little coward — precisely what she would, 
not do. Deep-hidden, yet unerring, was 
the conviction that she would never speak 
the words that would make her Ffairfax 
Travers’ wife. 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


2 26 

She prayed sadly for deliverance — and, 
lo ! at the eleventh hour her prayer was 
answered, and deliverance came swift, 
sure ; but, alas ! deadly. 

They were in the dainty breakfast room 
at Ingleclyffe, for it was July now and 
wanted but a week till the wedding. 

Mrs. Travers had left them to look after 
Raoul, who was either too indolent or too 
indisposed to make his appearance. 

Ffairfax, after a breakfast very much to 
his taste — which was that of a connois- 
seur — had seated himself in an easy chair, 
taken up his favorite morning paper, and 
lit a cigar from a brand after his own 
heart. 

Miss Chenault, indifferent to such crea- 
ture comforts, had walked away, leaving 
her paper wholly untouched and her break- 
fast nearly so. She was standing at an 
open window, gazing absently at the gor- 
geous beauty of the flaming, mid-summer 
flowers without. 

These last few weeks had left their own 
sad record on the beautiful face. It had 
lost somewhat of its glow and brilliance ; 
and there were deep shadows beneath the 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


227 


eyes — so deep that one might almost fancy 
there were shadows within them also. 

These slight details had not escaped 
Ffairfax’s vigilance, but Ffairfax had great 
faith in the efficacy of his own plans. 

He believed that their European tour, 
the sights and novelties of the old world — 
with which he was so familiar that he 
could at once explain to Viviau just what 
she should enjoy and just what she 
should not enjoy ; what was worthy 
and what uuworthy — and the untiring 
devotion he should lavish upon her, would 
restore her to her former buoyant self. 
He hoped also it would restore the equa- 
nimity of their lives that seemed in some 
iuexplicable, intangible, yet no less forci- 
ble way, to have been broken into ever 
since — well, ever since that trip to Santa 
Barbara. 

On this particular morning, although 
absorbed in his paper, he was not at all 
unmindful of the tall, listless figure out- 
lined against the light from the window. 

He read aloud more than one startling 
or newsy paragraph in the hope of rousing 
interest. And the paper had its usual 


228 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


pro rata of sensations. There were mur- 
ders, embezzlements, suicides, conflagra- 
tions. But Vivian remained provokingly 
unappreciative, and for the most part silent, 
responding only to direct appeals, and 
even then in an abstracted, monosyllabic 
fashion that was not, to say the least, en- 
couraging. 

Finally Ffairfax’s perseverence flagged 
and he continued his reading in silence. 

A servant entered noiselessly and spirited 
away the handsome service, with its debris 
of breakfast, and again they were alone 
and silence held absolute sway save for 
the monotonous ticking of the clock, the 
occasional rustle of the paper, fugitive 
sounds from without — a child’s happy, 
inconsequent laughter afar — the shrill, 
sweet notes of a bird prodigally flinging its 
melody broadcast. 

Suddenly Ffairfax’s voice broke through 
the stillness with an irrelevant question, 
apparently apropos of nothing. 

“ Where is Dr. Kent, Vivian?” 

Vivian answered slowly, almost with an 
effort, and she was glad that she faced the 
window rather than her lover 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


22Q 


‘ Dr. Kent I^m sure I can’t say. 
Perhaps Raoul might tell you — I ” 

“ He is traveling, isn’t he?” 

‘‘ I suppose so, but you know quite as 
much about him as I do. You saw him 
when, after relinquishing his practice here, 
he came to say good-by, while we were 
still in town.” 

“ No, I didn’t ; but he was going abroad, 
wasn’t he ?” 

“ Probably. He said nothing definitely.” 

“ But he told Raoul later,” persistently, 
“ that he would sail on La Bourgogne?” 

“ Yes,” irritably. “ What of it ? Why 
do you ask?” turning now, forgetful of 
self, for there was that in his voice that 
impressed, not to say alarmed her. 

“ Because there has been the most shock- 
ing, frightful disaster at sea on record. 
La Bourgogne collided with the British 
ship Cromartyshire somewhere up near 
the Nova Scotia coast, and the French 
liner sunk all in a minute, nearly every 
soul aboard, passengers and crew, going 
down with her — Dr. Kent among the rest. 

His name is on the list of ” 

No, no,” it was hardly an articulation 


230 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


at all — a cry rather — a fierce protest of 
agony and pain — and she was staggering- 
toward him with outstretched, groping 
hands as a blind person might, and the 
next instant had fallen heavily at his feet. 

“ Vivian, my own — dearest,” lifting her 
tenderly, and thoroughly frightened at the 
rigid, white face. “ Fool ! simpleton !”' de- 
nouncing himself. I might ha\ e known 
in her nervous condition she could stand 
no shock whatever. Vivian,” appealingly, 
chafing the cold hands, “ speak to me.” 

Before he could ring for assistance the 
eyes unclosed and she sat upright, push- 
ing him aside. 

It is not true,” she said defiantly. “ I 
tell you I do not believe it. It is not true.” 

Yes, dear,” gently, “ I fear it is. There 
is a full and authentic account of the whole 
sickening catastrophe, that need not, it 
seems, have been nearly so fatal and dis- 
astrous if the crew had been men instead 
of brutes.” 

Read it,” she whispered, “ I — I — can- 
not, and I must know ” 

Not now,” he remonstrated ; “ later 
when ” 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


231 


“ Yes, now.’’ 

She had taken up the paper, and Ffair- 
fax, with one arm about her bending over 
her shoulder, her fingers clasped in his, 
began to read. 

Suddenly he felt the splash of hot tears 
upon his hand. 

Vivian.” 

“Oh! my God!” She was sobbing 
convulsively, unmindful of him — unmind- 
ful of anything but the sharp and cruel 
grief that overmastered her. This, then, 
is the end. I cannot bear it — I cannot ! 
Oh ! God ! let me die also !” 

Ffairfax, amazed, had sprung quickly 
forward, and the white, agonized face was 
fully revealed to him. There was another 
revelation as well, in the same moment — 
bitter, astounding, maddening, yet hope- 
lessly unmistakable. 

“ What does this mean, Vivian ?” he 
demanded, grasping her shoulder, his face 
livid, the veins showing in purple cords 
about his neck. “ Answer me. What 
was he to you ?” 

“Everything!” shaking off his touch, 
and raising proud, unflinching eyes to his. 


232 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


“ And it means that I loved him — loved 
him with all my heart, and strength, and 
soul, d'here, you have your answer. Oh ! 
merciful God ! why cannot I die also ?” 
burying her face in her hands and break- 
ing down anew. 

But the pitiful sight of her grief ap- 
pealed to Ffairfax no longer. 

His own hurt was yet too fresh, too 
keen and cruel — his own wrongs clamored 
too loudly. 

His voice cut through the sound of her 
sobbing, cold, caustic, incisive as steel 
itself. 

I have been a fool and a dupe,’^ he 
said. I can see it all now quite clearly. 
Everything is as plain as the open day. 
I can understand now,’^ with stinging 
contempt, “ why you could not go to Santa 
Barbara without him. Why the time 
spent there was so thoroughly delightful. 
Why you have been a changed and differ- 
ent being since. Why,” his voice gather- 
ing rage as he spoke, my caresses have 
been pollution, as it were. Miserable, 
contemptible, low-born quack that he was ; 
it was not strange he should play the 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


233 


dastardly part of coward and traitor — a 
Judas where he was trusted!” 

“ Silence I” the word rang forth like a 
toes n, and again she left off sobbing and 
lifted her head undaunted, and her voice 
was clear and firm. “ Silence at once. 
Do you think I will hear him traduced ? 
‘ Coward ^ and ‘ traitor ^ indeed 1 Is it 
not rather the coward who would vilify 
one no longer able to defend him- 
self ? But you must hear me out — I 
insist — ” when he would have turned 
away, “ not, however, that I condescend 
to any self-vindication against such con- 
temptible charges, or seek to justify 
my own actions. Think of me as you 
will — and perhaps you cannot think too 
badly — but no slur, no reproach shall rest 
upon him. I will at least render him jus- 
tice. I,” with an irrepressible break in 
her voice, “ who would gladly have ren- 
dered him my life. 

I was sincere with you, perfectly so, 
when the Santa Barbara trip was first pro- 
posed. It was simply as I told you, I was 
in constant dread of those hemorrhages, 
and I had implicit faith in him as a phy- 


234 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


sician — his ability to check and control 
them — that was all ; aside from that, I 
disliked him. You know it and you must 
believe me. 

“ It was there, after — I don’t know how it 
came about — that I loved him. I couldn’t 
help it. I didn’t want to help it, for I 
knew that this was the perfection of’ life, 
and I was happy. And I was heedless 
and selfish ; I believed that he loved me, 
and I had no thought of you whatever, or 
of my pledge to you. I had never been 
denied anything my whole life long — why 
should I be denied this, fairest and best of 
all? 

“ I did not dream then that any invinci- 
ble obstacle could come between us — I did 
not dream that fate was ever so pitiless. 
But he — he knew from the first, and he 
was truer to me than I was to myself. 
Why, if he had said one word — if he had 
but opened his arms to me, I would have 
gone to him, and he knew it. 

“ Ah ! no, Ffairfax Travers, he kept 
faith with you and with his honor. He 
was true, thank God ! to the trust reposed 
in him, “ You see,” piteously, nervously 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


235 


interlacing her fingers, “ I must say and do 
everj^thing I can now for him ; I did so little 
before, you know, so little — and now that 
he is — Oh, my love ! my love ! I can- 
not bear this and live!” giving way to a 
fresh paroxysm of tempestuous sobs. 

Ffairfax had listened throughout with 
blackened brow and clenched hands ; and 
he thought in his heart that it had been a 
matter of keeping faith in the letter rather 
than in the spirit ; but he could say noth- 
ing, for whatever else was true or false 
there was no discount on the sincerity of 
her grief. 

The chivalrous instincts of his nature 
were at last aroused, and, besides, the 
shock he had received had in no measure 
diminished his love. 

He bent over her tenderly, bnt was al- 
together at a loss for fitting words of com- 
fort wherewith to stay her tears. 

“ Vivian, my own, my darling, you must 
not indeed. This is breaking my heart. 
Is there nothing — nothing whatever, I can 
do for you ?” 

“ No one under the heavens can do any- 
thing at all for me,” she answered hope- 


236 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


lessly, stolid again after the passion of 
tears, and staring beyond him with wide, 
vacant eyes. No one can help me. This 
will kill me, I know it You can leave 
me alone, that is all, and — and,’’ slipping 
awav from the arms that encircled her, 

ITairfax, you must never speak to me 
like that again. It is best now, surely, to 
say it — to make you understand once for 
all this thing I should have said so long 
ago — to be rid of this terrible burden that 
has pressed so heavily against my heart 
these weary, weary weeks. There must 
be no further mistakes between us. You 
see now, dear, how impossible it is for me 
ever to be your wife. Indeed, you could 

not wish it knowing ” 

I shall always wish it. Let there be 
no mistake as to that, at any rate.” 

The dry, hard voice, the miserable eyes, 
the white, haggard face, brought her to a 
sudden sense of his position, and her con- 
science smote her sharply. She seized his 
hand with both of hers and raised it to 
her lips, murmuring brokenly : 

“ I have acted the coward and the hypo- 
crite, Ffairfax: there is no excuse, no 


SIR SUPKRIOR. 


237 


extenuation. I — I alone am to blame. I 
have sinned, but, God knows, I have suf- 
fered, and the penalty falls heavily, for 
this — this is truly the bitterness and deso- 
lation of death.” 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


Fate could not have dealt Ffairfax Trav* 
ers an nn kinder, more cruel blow. It 
counterbalanced with compound interest, 
in one clear, clean stroke, all former 
favors. 

Mrs. Travers alone, perhaps, understood 
his true position — the full measure of hu- 
miliation and bitterness that his love and 
pride suffered. 

“ I am going away,” he said abruptly to 
her a week or so later. “ Much more of 
this sort of thing and I will land in a mad 
house.” 

This was after another interview with 
Vivian, an interview in which she had 
been obdurate, impervious, apathetic under 
his most passionate appeals and entreaties. 

“ I thought I had already made you 
understand,” she said stolidly, ‘‘ that every, 
thing was at an end between us — that I 
could never be your wife. I know I have 
treated you shamefully. I don’t attempt 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


239 

any extenuation — there is none. It can- 
not be remedied now, but I can at all 
events do you no further wrong — the 
wrong of marrying you when I ” 

“ Let me be the judge as to whether 
you are doing me any wrong,” he suppli- 
cated eagerly; and there was a hint of 
tears in his voice and perchance a few 
tears themselves, mingled with the kisses 
suddenly showered upon her hands. 

She ignored the tears and drew the 
hands away resentfully, even angrily, 
saying coldly i 

“I must reserve the right of judging 
for myself in such a matter. I shall never 
marry. All that is left to me now is to 
remain true to his memory, and,” proudly, 
‘‘ rest assured, true I shall remain ever.” 

He had turned away then, thinking she 
might at least have left those last words 
unsaid. 

It was, however, characteristic of the man 
that even in this hour he had not aban- 
doned all hope. The bare facts of the 
case asserted themselves to his mind. His 
one rival was dead, swept from his path- 
way by a wise and over-ruling Providence 


240 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


(it is astonisliiiig how wise Providence 
may appear, to even the most skeptical, 
when it over-rules in our own behalf). 
The best and longest part of life lay yet 
before him and Vivian — untried, untrod- 
den, unfathomed. 

Who should say what the end might be ? 

And so did he gather heart of hope, al- 
beit faintly, for he was moody and sorely 
depressed on this special morning when 
he avowed his intention of leaving to 
Mrs. Travers. 

“Going away, Ffairfax?” she repeated. 
“What do you mean ?” 

She had already guessed pretty accur- 
ately his meaning, and she could not in 
the circumstances urge him to stay, but 
she shrank with dread from the prospect 
of his departure and the burden of these 
dreary days alone. 

“ I canh stand it, that is all,” he said, 
simply. “ I am at the end of my tether. 
I^m not fit for business, nor anything else 
for that matter — I doubt if I ever will be 
again.” 

“ And where are you going?” 

“ Any where— nov/here — to the ends of 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


241 


the earth. I must get away from all of 
this, where everything will not contin- 
ually remind me, or my reason will fail. 
Don’t you understand.” 

“ Yes, only too well.” 

“ I have already taken passage, and 
will sail Saturday. Some day, aunt,” 
crossing to where she sat and tenderly 
stroking the soft, white curls. “ Some 
day, when life has again straightened out 
here — when she has come back to some- 
thing like her old self — -it may be years, 
you know, but I am willing to wait — what 
are the years, what can they ever be, if they 
are not bringing me nearer to her? — you 
can send a wise little bird with a message 
across the seas, and all may yet be well,” 
smiling faintly, with a poor attempt at 
pleasantry. 

But it was a futile failure, for they both 
felt, these two whom a common sorrow 
had bound together, that all was darkness 
about them. 

Oh, Ffairfax,” and she suddenly put 
her arms around him and clung to him, 
sobbing, “what is the use of deceiving 
ourselves? We are all heart-broken com- 


242 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


pletely, and everything is well nigh hope- 
less.” 

When it became positively known by 
society at large that Ffairfax Travers had 
left the country for a protracted stay 
abroad it was quite as positively known 
that the wedding that had been on tapis 
was off. 

Beyond this, however, all surmises as 
to the whys and wherefores of the matter 
were purely fragmentary and speculative, 
and, as is usual in such cases, fell far 
short of the truth. 

It was hardly a nine days’ wonder. 

Mrs. Travers continued at Ingleclyffe 
for the greater part of the summer, but 
returned to town earlier than usual in 
order that Vivian might have the bene- 
fit of Dr. Verbose’s immediate and daily 
attention, for evidently she was not 
well. She still coughed and the listless 
apathy that had succeeded the first violent 
shock of her grief remained unbroken. 
For the most part, she kept her own room 
and resented fiercely all and any sugges- 
tion of social life and gaiety. 

Mrs. Travers watched her with a heavy 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


243 


heart and anxious, pitying eyes, but her 
love — unselfish and all-absorbing as it 
was — was unavailing in this hour. 

It was one of the inevitable burdens, fall- 
ing sooner or later in all lives, that no one 
can share. One of those dark and thorny 
passes to be trodden alone, where no 
human aid can reach — where the light 
of reason, bleared by tears from some 
mortal agony, fails either to compensate or 
assure ; and where — God help us — if the 
steady gleam of divine radiance penetrates 
not, we are like to be engulfed in ever- 
lasting, devastating despair. 

A pall as of death overhung the whole 
house, the gorgeous, autumn days as they 
flashed dazzlingly past reflecting no bright- 
ness within. 

Raoul was mutinous and growled in- 
cessantly, but for once the spoiled boy 
found himself a comparative cypher and 
his grievances ignored. 

His sole indemnification, then, was open 
abuse of the faithful, long-suiFering Jar- 
boe, and secret anathematization of Vivian. 

She was a frivolous, disgusting co- 
quette who didnh know her own mind two 


244 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


minutes at a time. A fine muddle she 
had made of matters generally. But why 
must she needs send both of the fellows 
adrift? The one to his death and the 
other, the devil knew where. 

He found some scant consolation in a 
homily delivered to Ffairfax (that Ffair- 
fax, despite his wretchedness, could not 
refrain from smiling at) the morning of 
his departure. 

“ I am sorry for you, Ffairfax, upon my 
word I am,” he said, patronizingly. But 
I tell you Vivian isn’t worth a tithe of all 
this row she has kicked up. As for that 
ridiculous rubbish about Kent caring 
seriously for her, it isn’t worth that,” with 
a suggestive, contemptuous snap of his 
fingers. “ It’s all very well for a fellow 
like you to go daft over such a flighty 
little flirt, but Kent’s head was level, you 
know; no nonsense about him. Don’t 
you be so confoundedly broken up over 
it, anyway. She is certain to come round 
all right, and when she does I’ll give you 
the tip in a hurry.” 


CHAPTER XIX. 


You are crying, grandmamma.” 
Vivian sat bolt upright on the couch and 
faced Mrs. Travers accusingly. 

“ Dear me, how you startle one, child,” 
retreating a step backward, from where 
she had stood bending over the girl, with 
a conscious, shame-faced look, as if she 
had been caught at some surreptitious, 
disreputable business. “ I thought you 
were asleep.” 

And so I was until this moment,” 
sinking back among the cushions. “ But, 
mamsie, darling, donh attempt double- 
dealing and diplomacy at your age. It is 
too late — too late. I saw the tears, but 
perhaps they were tears of joy. There 
are instances on record, I believe, where 
people have been known to weep for joy.” 

“Nonsense, nonsense, 'dear,” said Mrs. 
Travers lightly, but at the same time 
brushing away the convicting, inconven- 
ient mist from her eyes. “ I only wanted 


246 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


to make sure you were quite comfortable. 
There, do you feel better after your nap 
adjusting the cushions and stroking the 
loose, gold hair that lay like a nimbus of 
light about the pallid face. 

“ Oh, yes, I feel better — indeed, I feel 
well. There is nothing the matter with 
me, only I am tired, that is all. But, 
grandmamma,” persistently, “ you were 
crying, you know. I saw you.” 

And then a short silence fell upon the 
room and the glow of the firelight flung 
a ruddier radiance yet over that other glow 
of light upon the pillow ; and the twilight 
shadows gathered without and beyond 
and crept stealthily nearer and in upon 
them and took up their abode, like so 
many mute, weird spirits. And after a 
while the dreamy stillness was again 
stirred by the ripple of Vivian^s voice. 

“ Grandmamma, do you think I am 
dying ?” and if grandmamma gave a second 
nervous, guilty start it was not detected, 
either on account of the darkness or on 
account of her position at the head of the 
couch. 

“ What absurd fancies, Vivian,” she 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


247 


answered steadily, even lightly. Of 
course, I think nothing of the kind. I 
wish you wouldn’t talk so, child. You 
are morbid, and it troubles me.” 

“ Because, grandmamma,” ignoring the 
refutation, “ you must not think so, for it 
isn’t true. There is nothing, positively 
nothing, the matter. Dr. Verbose told 
me that only this morning, when I insisted 
upon knowing. It is true, I cough some- 
times and I lie down quite frequently, but 
that is nothing. I will be all right again 
in a few days. But you must not worry. 
If you worry it will make me ill in reality.” 

The last few months had been a monoto- 
nous, vacuous stretch, almost a blank to 
Vivian. She had absolutely dragged 
through existence, nothing whatever rous- 
ing her interest. 

As selfishness had been paramount in 
all things with her, her grief proved no 
exception. She had been utterly wretched 
(and in reality very ill), and in conse- 
quence the entire little world within her 
radius, of which she was the dominant 
spirit, had been proportionately wretched. 
She had thought of self alone. 


248 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


It had been a matter of inconsiderate 
indifference to her what nnhappiness or 
suffering might accrue to others from her 
conduct. 

This evening, however, by a slight thing 
indeed, a torpid conscience had been 
aroused and would not again readily be 
stilled. 

The glimpse she had caught of Mrs. 
Travers’ face in an unguarded moment, 
with the care and anxiety and sorrow of 
weeks stamped upon it, had shocked her, 
so terribly changed and aged had the face 
become. And the sight of the tears had 
melted away the callous crust of selfish- 
ness that lay hard about her heart. 

In a moment the memory of the love 
that had shielded and nurtured and girded 
her about, from her babyhood up, swept 
over her — the unremitting, never-tiring 
love that had poured itself out like water 
in order that her life might be ever bright 
and fair. 

It had failed of its purpose, certainly, 
as all such prodigal, unquestioning, un- 
wise love inevitably must, but it was none 
the less leal and staunch for that. 


SIR SUPERIOR 


249 


The lash of conscience, just and salutary 
as it may be, is hardly a pleasant thing, 
and it is neither a happy nor a congratu- 
latory hour in which we first realize our 
own shortcomings and stand face to face 
with the ugly shadow cast by our own 
wrongdoing. 

Poor Vivian ! So many thoughts crowded 
upon her as she quietly lay in the glow of 
the firelight, the tender hands still strok- 
ing her hair. 

She had resolutely turned her face from 
life and all that life might now offer, since 
the one thing she had deemed worthy of 
acceptance had been denied her. She had 
even prayed in the bitterness of sorrow 
and rebelliousness of grief that she might 
be allowed to resign the supreme blessing 
of life itself. 

But to-night the touch of the gentle 
hands seemed drawing her back — such 
weak and withered hands they were, too, 
strong alone in their might of loving. 
Suddenly she reached upward, and, seizing 
them, covered them with swift, sweet, peni- 
tent kisses. 

“ I wonder how you can bear with me 


250 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


at all, grandmamma, sucli a useless, sel- 
fish, troublesome, wicked creature as I 
have been.” 

“ Vivian,” reproachfully, “ how can you 
say such things ? I cannot listen to this, 
child ; it breaks my heart.” 

“ But it is true for all that, grandmamma. 
But there shall be no further complaint, I 
promise you ” 

“ ‘ Complaint,’ darling ?” 

“ I shall begin life anew, mamsie,” still 
holding the hands tightly as if they im- 
parted strength and she feared to loose 
them, “ for that other Vivian is dead, you 
know. She died such a hard and cruel 
death,” shuddering, “ you might pity her 
a little, but regret her never, because this 
new Vivian will be so kind and loving and 
thoughtful ; altogether different — au im- 
proved, revised edition, you know,” smiling 
whimsically up into the troubled face. 

Won’t you laugh just a wee bit, grand- 
mamma ? — and her chief mission will be 
to brighten your life and lighten your 
burdens, so that you will never miss the 
other one at all.” 

There is no tonic in God’s wide phar- 


SIR SUriCRlOL^. 


251 


inacy for a broken heart and a bruised 
conscience like looking beyond self ; and 
from that hour in some measure she rallied 
and brightened and regained apparently 
a faint semblance of her old cheerfulness ; 
if at times the way grew dark and she fal- 
tered in her new and high resolve, who 
could cast a stone ? For, mayhap, there 
was at work an insidious yet powerful foe, 
from whose dread decree comes no appeal 
for even the best and bravest. 


CHAPTER XX. 


Dr. Kent smiled grimly over his own 
death notice. 

Vhomme propose^ mats Dieu dispose?'' 

“ Come with me,” lightly said an old 
friend, met by chance. “ It will be ever 
so much jollier. The more the merrier, 
you know.” 

“But I have just told yon that I am 
booked to sail to-morrow on La Bour- 
gogne.” 

“ What of it ? You’ve j ust told me also 
that you have no cut and dried plans, no 
specific destination.” 

“ And what is your destination ?” 

“ Bohemia,” laughingly. 

“ And for how long ?” 

“Ah! mon ami! Bohemia scoffs at 
limitations of time and space, that is the 
charm of it. We will sail as we list with 
whatever wind that may blow. I promise 
you one thing only, we will give all ports 
a wide berth — 3^es, two — we start to-night 
sure.” 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


253 


It was a tempting offer, an indefinite 
yachting trip. The idea was in touch 
with his reckless mood, and Dr. Kent 
accepted it ; but it was not until months 
after that he learned of the tragic fate of 
La Bourgogne, and that he had in all 
probability saved his life by so doing. 

He hardly congratulated himself upon 
his happy escape as earnestly as the occa- 
sion would seem to justify ; for he was not 
so much in love with the world that the 
prospect of bidding it an everlasting fare- 
well dismayed him. 

What sting could the mystery of death 
reveal that the mystery of life had not 
already inflicted? Whereupon he fell 
into a bitter train of morbid reflection. 
Would it have signified greatly if he had 
gone to the bottom with the scores of 
other unfortunate souls ? 

He had, it was true, endeavored to lead 
an honest, upright life ; sowing some seeds 
of good and usefulness perhaps ; making 
some friends warm and true ; but withal 
love had gone astray ; there was no one in 
all the world to whom the event of his 
death would be a deep and lasting grief— 


254 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


no one to whom it would be a vital sorrow, 
and he felt that in the highest sense he 
had failed, inasmuch as he had missed 
that which is best in life. 

He thought of Vivian certainly, happy 
under sunny foreign skies, and wondered 
if the chance message of his death would 
cast ever so slight a cloud athwart the 
fair horizon of her wedded bliss. Probably 
not. Humility preponderated egotism by 
long odds in his composition, and the faint 
hope that had once sprung into life, in the 
light of her presence, had withered quickly 
in the depressing gloom of his despair. 

Who has not learned to his cost what a 
pernicious, perilous thing it must needs 
be when his world narrows down to the 
limit of any one person’s influence. 

Douglas Kent’s experience proved no 
exception. 

As one woman had come to constitute 
his whole world, even so the loss of one 
woman left him in chaotic darkness and 
bewilderment ; and the security of his 
charitable, catholic, all-embracing views 
was assailed by the claims and clamors of 
a keen, personal grief. 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


255 


In the close, uninterrupted companion- 
ship that a yachting trip entails his friend 
found the moody, cynical man very differ- 
ent from the Douglas Kent of old, and 
marveled not a little. 

Since, however, truth is not an epheme- 
ral illusion of to-day or to-morrow, but a 
potent fact — eternal, infinite, immutable — 
its force cannot at will be evaded. And 
finally, if at first almost unconsciously to 
himself, through such agency was his re- 
demption wrought. 

The discipline of years could hardly be 
demoralized in a moment, or the dedica- 
tion of a life to high and noble aims be 
swept away by one fitful gust of passion. 
Gradually, then, the true ring of his na- 
ture asserted its supremacy. Self was 
relegated to its former secondary place, 
and if hope and enthusiasm were not re- 
kindled the claims and duties entailed by 
existence were at least recognized. 

The past he was done with ; it held in 
its irreclaimable clasp the magic trio — 
Youth, Love, Passion. But the future 
was his ; not, it was true, for any great 
degree of happiness it might yield, but 


256 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


for the small amount of good it might be 
possible to accomplish. 

He turned, then, to gather up the 
broken, tangled threads of life’s neglected 
woof and warp, not perhaps with a lighter 
heart, but at all events with more charita- 
ble aims toward God and man. 

He had kept no strict account of time 
since his departure. He only knew he 
had lived through a limitless period that 
had set its everlasting, ineffaceable seal 
upon his life. A man who had died and 
been laid away for years might feel much 
the same as he did upon a possible return 
to old haunts and associates. So did he 
reflect as he ascended the brown stone 
steps of Mrs. Travers’ familiar town 
house. 

In spite of all fine resolutions he was 
stirred more deeply than he cared to ac- 
knowledge by this coming back — he could 
never any more come back, in reality, to 
the past — to all he had known and lost — 
and this outer semblance jarred painfully 
upon him. 

How well he remembered the last morn- 
ing here, when Vivian stood beside the 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


257 


table touching lovingly, almost reverently, 
the poor flowers he had brought, fastening 
them as near as might be to her heart, but 
so very quiet and self-contained and so 
thoroughly at her ease that he had 
thought he must have been dreaming that 
night under the purple heavens, or that 
perhaps the moonlight had dazed him ; or 
the incense from the flowers overpowered 
him ; or that perhaps, maddened altogether 
by the glamour of the fair face, he had 
mistaken the divine pity that showe upon 
it for something yet diviner. 

Ah, well ! he had said his farewell with 
what grace he might, feeling the while as 
we do when we look our last upon the be- 
loved dead, and resolutely turned his back 
upon the sight of happiness that drove 
him to despair. 

To-day he was back again. Vivian was 
here no longer, the flowers dead with the 
sweet summer time that had given them 
birth, and there was frost in the atmos- 
phere. There was frost in his life as well; 
it had even extended somewhat to ulti- 
mates, and laid a faint, silver touch upon 
his dark hair. 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


258 

He rang the bell impatiently. He had 
become a restless, impatient man. He 
would be glad when this duty visit was 
over, when Mrs. Travers and Raoul, in 
case they had heard and mourned over 
this chance rumor of his death, were en- 
lightened as to the truth, and he could 
again take his lonely way. The boy had 
perhaps fretted after him, as he should 
have remembered sooner. It was this 
that had brought him here to-day, his first 
call since his arrival in the city. 

He wondered vaguely if the resumption 
of all old obligations would prove as diffi- 
cult and distasteful. 

It was a strange servant who responded 
to his summons. 

“ Mrs. Travers and Mr. Raoul had gone 
for a drive ; they might now return at any 
moment. Did he care to wait ?’^ 

“ He would wait. He was a friend of 
long standing,” and thrusting his card 
in the man’s hand, he brushed unceremon- 
iously past him into the library. 

The room, usually subdued, was flooded 
with light, and on the rug before the fire, 
in sweeping robes of black, no touch of 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


259 


color whatever about her save the bright 
hair, stood Miss Chenault. 

Dr. Kent stopped short, stunned with 
amazement. Yes, it was Vivian surely, 
but Vivian most strangely and pitiably 
changed and broken. 

His first thought was that some great 
sorrow had fallen upon her ; the dis- 
astrous cyclone of some mighty grief had 
swept and devastated her life — and he — 
he had been skulking away, nursing a 
selfish grievance, when perchance he 
might have succored her. 

He was overcome with reproach and re- 
morse, and — after a fierce, impotent wrath 
against whoever or whatever had wrought 
this ruin — his strongest impulse was to 
take her in his arms and shield her with 
his very life, if need be, from the baneful, 
unknown evil that had already very nearly 
wrecked her. 

But, of course, he did not take her in 
his arms ; he did not so much as touch 
her, as he advanced and looked down into 
the eyes that were fixed upon him in awe- 
stricken, dumfounded, speechless aston- 
ishment. 


26 o 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


The shocking and pitiful change in her 
struck like a chill through his heart and 
well nigh unmanned him. 

Was it possible that her reason had 
fled ? 

“ Some terrible trouble has overtaken 
you,” he said finally and very gently, “ or 
perhaps you have been and are still very 
ill ?” 

Poor Vivian ! She had turned at the 
first sound of his footstep, and uttered a 
quick, startled exclamation and then clung 
to the nearest chair, trembling visibly and 
ghastly to her very lips. 

“We thought — ” she murmured, bro- 
kenly, seeming not to have heard liis 
words at all. “ How is it ? — I cannot un- 
derstand — ” vaguely, pressing her hand 
to her brow. “We thought, you know — 
we thought you were dead, killed, drowned. 
But,” with a sudden, triumphant, trans- 
figuring light flashing into her eyes, “ it is 
not true, thank heaven ! it is not true. I 
told them it could not be true. God is 
good after all,” burying her face in her 
hands and shaken by a storm of hysterical 
sobs. 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


261 


“ Oh ! no, it was a false report,” he said 
quickly, bewildered and distressed by her 
emotion, “ and might easily have been ex- 
plained away sooner, only it signified so 
little to any one that I thought — or rather 
I didn’t think — indeed, it signifies so little 
now, except that it has been the cause 
of an unfortunate, needless shock to you, 
when, too, you are not well enough to sus- 
tain any shock whatever. But you must 
forgive me,” for she still continued to sob, 
“ and remember that I did not know you 
were still heie and ill and in trouble,” 
gazing with yearning pity at the bowed 
head. “ I thought, you know, that you 
were away — abroad, you and Travers — 
and blessed with every bright and gracious 
gift kind fortune could bestow — well, 

happy, content ” 

To his consternation, the words have a 
most strange, contrary, unlooked fQr ef- 
fect. They check her tears, it is true, as 
he had hoped, for the eyes lifted to his are 
dry and bright, but they are scornful eyes 
as well, and rife with wrath, resentment, 
condemnation. 

You thought that ?” she exclaims in- 


262 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


dignantly. “You coul^ think such a thing 
after all. I — ‘ well, happy, content’ — 
the wife of another — with the memory 
of you to haunt me ? — the sickening 
knowledge to torture me ever, that you 
had been swept out of existence, into eter- 
nity with never a word — never a — Oh ! 
my God ! How could you do me — your- 
self — heaven’s own truth such vile and 
cruel injustice ?” 

“ Vivian !” his face ashen, his voice 
choked until the merest words are an ef- 
fort. “ Is it possible that you mean — ” the 
full truth breaking upon him. “ Oh ! my 
love!” gathering her in his arms, “ I did 
not dream that life could hold a moment 
so supreme. It was for me, then ?” ques- 
tioning eagerly, yet waiting no response, 
but masterfully taking his own answer in 
swift, mad, exultant kisses — kisses that 
frighten, bewilder, subdue, and that set 
her heart to beating quick, tumultuous 
time to the old, old melody that is still a,nd 
ever the newest, sweetest music this side 
of heaven. 

“ Yes,” with a sigh and sob and — sadder 
than either — a smile through the mist of 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


263 


tears, “ for you, ingrate, this bitter story 
of suffering and humiliation, that has 
branded itself in such ineffaceable charac- 
ters that he who runs may read.” 

He does not speak ; he only draws her 
nearer to his heart, knowing he cannot 
draw her too near — a sudden, sickening 
fear having laid its cruel weight upon him. 

But she continues lightly, for no shadow 
that has been or may be can despoil the 
luminous, limitless radiance of the present 
heaven. 

“ Yes, I have indeed been very ill ; and 
I prayed — wicked, wilful prayers of course 
^ — I am always wicked, you know — that I 
might be allowed to follow you. Death 
no longer terrorized. Do you remember ?” 
smiling. “ How long ago it all seems. 
But,” suddenly impelled by a new and 
disquieting thought, lifting her head and 
scrutinizing him with sharp, wistful con- 
cern, “you haven’t been altogether happy 
yourself, I think ?” 

“ Well — no — not altogether.” 

“ Swear,” imperiously, “ that you have 
not.” 

“ Most willingly do I swear by these 


264 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


dear lips,’^ stooping to kiss her. But she 
evades him with a second, sweet, imperi- 
ous proviso : 

No. Swear first that you now are.” 

And again he swears. 

And so do we leave them, happy to-day 
on the threshold of bliss. 

To-morrow who shall say ? They are 
withal but faulty children oT erring, suffer- 
ing humanity. 

It may be that not even the magic power 
of love combined with tender, untiring 
vigilance and great skill can avail to cir- 
cumvent the cold, invidious shadow that 
threatens to gather her in its fell embrace. 

Or again, it may be as time passes, that 
in the conflict of life her undisciplined, 
rebellious, wayward nature will fail to 
attain the higher, grander level of his ; 
and that she will waver and pause, and, 
looking backward, regret perchance a cer- 
tain rich offering once flung prodigally 
at her feet but spurned from her pathway 
as merest dross. 

Or again, it may be — indeed let us hope 
that it will be — a full and perfect marriage, 
not alone of hearts, but of souls as well; 


SIR SUPERIOR. 


265 


not alone for time, but eternity also ; and 
that as the long years ahead bring their 
own, inevitable burdens, they will but 
serve to draw these two in closer, more 
complete communion ; that, in short, their 
lives may be a pure and perfect verifica- 
tion in ultimates of the grand truth on 
which rests the Universe — the marriage 
of Wisdom and Love — an epitome of 
Heaven itself. 








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